2012 Intentions

As hereby promise that as soon as I am done with Project 365 for 2011 I will be a better blogger.....and I can say that because anything is an improvement from my current upkeep of this poor blog! ;)

For Mary Elizabeth

Tonight I received a phone call that I knew would come someday. But it didn't stop the sting and mix of emotions when it finally did come. My Dad's tearful voice on the other end of the line let me know that my Nana had passed away.

Part of me was in disbelief at first because I had just been talking to Justin about her, around the time my Dad said she actually passed. I was talking about how I wanted to see her. She and my Aunt Jody, who has so lovingly taken care of her, have been on my mind the past week. I was wondering how long she would have to remain in her infirmed state. It has been three years since her life-changing stroke and I wanted for her to be whole again.

My first reaction to the news was relief for my Nana. I had been thinking about how frail she has gotten and how hard every little daily task is for her. When I heard she passed, I imagined in my mind's eye her walking through the veil of this life and into the next. I imagined her body and mind being restored. I imagined her being welcomed by all those who had passed before her. And I was happy for her.

Then over the line I heard my own mother say "I am happy for her." and then her voice cracked as she continued "But she is my mother." In that moment my heart broke as I thought of my own mom and how this must feel. I immediately thought of how devastated I will be when that day comes when I have to say goodbye to her. My relief turned to sadness as the realization of the situation settled on me.

Through the mix of emotions though, I find myself so grateful for the life of my Nana. Her walk was not always easy, but she endured. She has taught me to endure and I am grateful for the legacy that she forged for me. After her stroke three years ago, as we sat in her hospital room, she kept talking about the light. She had lost almost all her verbal skills and yet she kept persisting about The Light. She saw a light. She was ready to go to it. She was prepared to meet her God. When she realized it wasn't her time she was upset, because she was so ready. But her work wasn't done.

Now, in retrospect, I am able to see the purpose of her staying. Of what a little, fragile, white-haired, mostly non-verbal woman was able to accomplish in her remaining years on Earth. And I am yet again amazed at God's goodness and plan for each and every one of us.

I feel a peace, as I sit here and type, that my Nana fulfilled her purpose and it was her time to rest from this mortal state. I will miss her so very much. The softness of her skin. The feel of her manicured nails as they softly scratched your back. I will miss the way she always coiffed her hair and sucked in her cheeks for pictures. I will cherish memories of her annual visits every Christmas as a child. I will cherish the memory of her standing outside her little house on Northview waving as we would pull away after a visit. I will miss and cherish the letters and cards I would find in my mailbox in her perfect, cursive handwriting. I will miss so much about the small but amazing woman I named my firstborn after. She truly touched my life.

I am grateful to my core for the knowledge I have that families are forever. I feel so much peace at knowing that this parting is but temporary. I find myself with even greater resolve to live my life according to God's plan, so that someday I can meet with her again.

Meatloaf Beatloaf

If the kids hadn't been at the table I probably would have turned into Randy from 'A Christmas Story' and started whining and chucking it around my plate.

Just for the record, I made the sickest meatloaf ever last night. And I don't mean sick in a good way like "Ah man, that meatloaf was sick!" It literally was sick. Disgusting. I spit it out in my napkin. Which was sad because I found the recipe on a site that is usually pretty good to me. This time...not so much.

You want to know the funnier part? My children loved it. Yes, those same children who hassle me practically every night about how much they hate this or that. They loved the sick-o meatloaf. In fact, they ate up theirs and then asked if they could eat mine up too. Go figure.

Thoughts on Sister Hinckley

“I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.”
-Marjorie Pay Hinckley

The first time I read this quote I was in my mid-twenties. I thought it was a lovely sentiment, but I remembered thinking "I don't know... I wouldn't mind a good manicure and some good looking clothes and a nice car. And being okay with sticky on you? Can't I be a good person and not want sticky on my shirt?"

The long and short of it was, I didn't get it. Of course there is nothing wrong with a good manicure. But what I failed to grasp five or six years ago was the feeling that when you lose yourself in living life, specifically a life in service to God and others, all those other things become peripheral. I failed to understand that you find more joy in helping others than you ever could in solely taking care of yourself.

I just love every bit of the way Sister Hinckley worded that. It gives me a feeling of peace that yes, my van may at times look like a rolling garbage can. Yes, my laundry pile may never be completely conquered. Yes, I may wear the same pants three days in a row...but fulfillment isn't just found in the things the eye can see.

I am okay if some things get put aside so that I can write a family member, or watch a friend's child, or make a pot of soup for someone you care about who is sick or whatever it is. Those are the things that matter. Not a vision of perfection, but the reality of solid relationships. The reality of knowing that this one life we have to live was spent in the ways that really matter.

Grateful Heart

I woke up this morning cocooned in warm blankets that protected against the nip in the morning air. I could hear the older girls playing happily upstairs in the playroom. I got up and walked into Devyn and Lauryn's room and was greeted by ear-to-ear grins and happy, little voices. I came downstairs and was welcomed with a smile from my husband and music filling the airspace around the breakfast table. As Devyn and I munched on our granola, she kept grinning at me and patting my shoulder. I LOVE it when she pats my shoulder! Brynna ran downstairs to give me a squeeze before she was off to play again. After finishing breakfast, I was off to go upstairs to get showered so I can meet up with my friend Laura this morning...and then I stopped and felt the moment. I said a prayer in my heart thanking my Father in Heaven for my life and for the many, many good things in it.

When I was in my twenties I thought that true happiness or contentment would finally be achieved when we had a beautiful home filled with nice things, new cars and could afford to go wonderful places. I thought happiness was never having conflict. I thought happiness was when the Lord blessed you with the things you wanted right away....

Happiness, and I had to take a moment to record this so that my children know, isn't any of those things. Happiness resides in a home, regardless of size or furnishing, where there is respect and love. Happiness is knowing that even if your van has 118,000 miles on it, it is paid for and starts each time you load your kids into it. Happiness is knowing that you and the people you care about can survive tough times and live to love stronger and more earnestly the next day. Happiness is knowing that God loves you so much, that He knows what plan is right for you. Even if it means you have to wait and even if it means you have to work for it. Happiness is knowing that out of all the places in the world you could be, nothing compares to sharing a couch and staying in with a husband and children who love you with all the generosity hearts can hold. Happiness is having friends that you don't have to put on any pretenses for. Ones that love you like family and you know would do anything for you.

I have all these things.

My life is simple. But I want my children to know that I consider myself one of the most blessed women alive. Because I have everything that really matters. I have everything in life that I need. I think when we cultivate a genuine thankfulness for every need that has been met, our wants for the frivolous dwindle. Because we realize what is really important, what really matters and we find contentment and joy in those things. I know I have. I know that my life is blessed, beyond measure.

Penn State

Today I got red-hot, steaming mad as the situation unfolded at Penn State. For those of you who haven't heard, one of assistant staff members of the Penn State Football team was caught in the act, almost a decade ago, raping a 10-year-old in the locker room showers. It wasn't his only victim. NOTHING was done to stop this monster by the person who saw the act, other than telling his superior who then passed the buck to someone else. Nothing was reported to the authorities and they sat by, actionless, while this evil person continued 'mentoring' children through his underprivileged youth organization.

Have you ever had a disgust that you couldn't describe? I was there. Where you think of the children in your life and you know that if someone EVER did that to your kids, you're afraid of the place of rage you could go to. Where you know you would have to stop yourself, but all you would want to do is...

What's even more disgusting is that these kids didn't have an easy life, even prior to the abuse. They needed a place to turn. A person to trust. Someone to help them get a break. What they got was a wolf in sheep's clothing. What they got was wounds that many find hard to heal after a lifetime of trying. It just makes me so sick. This bastard that did it wrote and autobiography about himself detailing his life as a mentor of youth. You want to know what the title of that book is? "Touched." Let's talk again about the rage you fear you couldn't control....

What has been almost as disturbing as the reports of abuse themselves, is the amount of people that have defended those who brushed these heinous acts under the rug. For almost a decade after the discovery of that awful act, they allowed this man to walk free among children without calling the authorities. And yet riots have broken out and people have become so incensed that the university would hold those people, who allowed this to continue, accountable for their actions. People love their football and their coaches and their 'legacy' more than they care about human lives.

The whole thing leaves me sickened beyond description.

Going Flying

You can't see them, but Lauryn, Brynna and Maryn are all in this little plane! They had so much fun!

I am really not one for irrational fears, but the thought of flying in a little airplane makes me kind of nervous. Between Justin and I we have known 3 people who have died in small airplane crashes. Kind of a reason to be nervous if you ask me. Tonight though my friend Laura called me up and said that her husband Nick, who is an Aeronautical Engineer and pilot, had a plane and to come out and go flying with them. Justin had already committed to go watch football with a friend. So I loaded up the girls and we drove up to the little Cherokee County airport. Nick took turns giving everyone rides while we sat around a fire and cooked hot dogs. It was chilly and brisk, but fun to be out bundled up and enjoying the Fall evening.

Maryn was nervous at first about going. I told her she didn't have to go if she didn't want to. But when the question came "Alright, who's going next?!" Maryn, Brynna and Lauryn all stepped up to the plate! I watched them take off as I held Devy, knowing they were in good hands with Nick, but still hoping they would be safe and sound. When the girls came back from their turn they jumped out of their seats, raving about how awesome it was! How fun it was to talk into the microphone on the headset! How the cars looked like little toy cars! How they flew over Wal-Mart! By the last flight, after all the kids had had their turns, the kids had me convinced I needed to take a turn too. So I swallowed my nervousness and hopped into the cockpit and rode shotgun.

I must say it was so much fun!! Flying over Canton at night, seeing all the familiar places from such a different view. It was fun to hear Nick explain some of the technical stuff. And the landing was way smoother that any commercial flight I have ever been on! It was just a great time all around. I was really grateful I got to try something new and have such a great time with friends tonight!

Advice #1

As a mom, there is always a ton of advice that flies through my head, but I don't always have time to articulate it. So for my daughters I am writing it down. Some advice may be serious, or silly or just plain common sense but I am going to share what I can every now and then as it comes to me, in no particular order... Girls, you get half of your DNA from me, which means you have also been blessed with that whitey-white girl skin. I hope you can embrace it. But I will understand if the yearning for sun-kissed skin eventually hits you someday. But please, in your pursuit for sun-kissedness don't ever tan or lay out in the sun to the point of being orange or making your features indiscernible. (You know what I am talking about, where all you see is teeth and gobs of mascara and the rest just blends in to one monochromatic, unnatural shade of oompa-loompa.) It's just not a good look.

Love,

Mom

Today...

*Maryn helped clean up like nobody's business and didn't complain once!
*Brynna read me a funny story she wrote about a vampire that eats all the candy instead of giving it to Trick-or-Treaters.
*Lauryn was her usual moody/hilarious/bossy/delightful self.
*Devyn smiled and her whole face lit up she she saw her Daddy.

Sundays

I was joking with my friend Laura at church today, after the Sacrament Service, that trying to keep four, young children happy and quiet through church can feel like Chinese water torture sometimes. Every little fight or fuss or whatever that breaks out while you are trying to preserve the reverence for those around you picks at your sanity until you find yourself feeling completely unraveled.

When I only had two kids, I oftentimes came to church alone without Justin. I wondered some weeks, even though my testimony was strong, why I even came to church at all. Instead of being able to be in the classes and meetings being edified (which I needed so bad) I found myself walking the halls with my children, constantly soothing someone else.

In retrospect I am so glad I stuck it out and kept it up though. My parental workload has only increased over the years and it would have been easy to just say it was too much and stay home with Justin. But I am glad that even if it put me at wit's end most days, that my children and my husband knew that on Sundays I woke up, put on our best and went to worship in whatever way I could.

What kept me going was the thought that our actions define who we are. I had a testimony and I couldn't just shelf it because life was hard. I couldn't just shelf it because more was required of me than others, it seemed like. Even if I felt like some weeks I went home with my own personal well still depleted, the Lord has found ways to bless me throughout the years for doing what I knew was right; even when it seemed like I was getting nothing out of it.

I am beyond grateful that Justin is now by my side at church each week. I am grateful that my actions, even when it wasn't easy, showed him where my heart was at and what was important to me. It helped him to find the desire to rekindle his own testimony. It means so much to me to be able to share my spiritual side with my husband. It means so much that even though life is crazy, I know I have my back-up right next to me. It makes all the difference knowing we are in it together. We are a team. We are unified in purpose.

Today as Justin took a restless Devyn from me to go walk the halls with her so I could go to class, I just thought about how much I love him. How grateful I am that he is my husband. While it was so hard at the time, I am glad that I weathered those Sundays alone. I am glad that I had to really think hard about my testimony and what it meant to me. Glad that I fought for what I believed even if it meant a lonely road for awhile.

I don't take for granted that even if we are a wild and restless bunch some weeks and it feels like Chinese water torture, we are all there. There is no one unaccounted for. I am grateful for the trials of the past because they have made the blessings of my present so very much sweeter. I am grateful for a husband who loved me enough to seek a change of heart. I am infinitely thankful for a loving Father in Heaven who has shown time and time again that He will find ways to bless and lift up those who earnestly seek Him.

Dear Keira...

This was a response to a sweet message sent to me by my husband's awesome cousin, Keira. She was congratulating me on the recent news that a short piece I submitted to be condsidered for publication in a collaborative book on motherhood was selected.

Keira, thank you so much! It's funny, like I said it is just a small snippet in a book full of other authors. But it's amazing what a boost it was to me. When I entered my submissions I remember thinking "This is such a waste of time. No one is ever going to pick me." Every time the people compiling the book would send out update emails saying they hadn't chosen the winners yet because they were working their way through piles of submissions and running them through different judging panels, I thought "I should just mark these emails as spam because even when they do pick the winners, I won't make the cut. Why waste my time reading all these update emails?" Even as I was reading the final list of winners, I was scrolling down, down, down and I was no where to be seen and I thought "See, I was right. I knew I wouldn't make it." Then in the last chapter, second to last on the list of authors, there was my name. I was shocked.

I was the girl no one ever told was capable of doing anything out of the ordinary. No one ever talked to me about grades, or pushing myself or college. My parents are wonderful people, but seriously, I think they were just happy to see me barely graduate from high school. I have spent my adult life scratching and working hard for any feathers in my cap. But in the back of my mind, I knew I wasn't really good at anything. The directionless girl starving for self-esteem from my teenage years haunted me, chased me.

The first glimmer of hope in myself came after I ran my first and singular marathon. I wasn't an athlete. I wasn't a runner. But I was tired of being a quitter. And so I literally ran away from that girl. That doubter. I ran away from the voices in my head that told me I wasn't strong enough to do hard things. That finish line was a new start.

But demons are hard to keep away...

So I could finish something. So what. I was still considerably dumber than those around me.

The demons were on my back again. So I went back to school last year with four kids, which in itself is completely nuts. But I had again found myself toe-to-toe with a breaking point in my life where I had something to prove. Priority number one in sticking it to those demons was, in addition to other coursework, was to start with Math classes. I hadn't been in school in over a decade and I was pretty sure I was crazy. I had previously repeatedly flunked out of Math classes in high school, because let's face it, I'm an idiot.

I worked my tail off and studied until the wee hours of the morning. I literally cried tears of frustration and pulled on my hair. I wasn't one of those who's mind was mathematically wired. But the shadows of underachievement stalked after me and so I pushed forward, in hopes of getting out of their reach.

Report cards came back and I got straight A's. The next semester, the classes got harder and once again I was able, through sheer grit, to pull off straight A's again.

We ended up moving and so I wasn't able to keep going to school. But those two semesters taught me that maybe being a worthless idiot was a lie I sold myself. Maybe it wasn't that no one never believed in me. Maybe their belief was just strangled by my own unbelief and went unrecognized.

Writing is something I am not good at, it's something that I enjoy. Any dreams I had of ever getting published or writing a children's book were ridiculous pipe dreams. Uneducated, unextraordinary people like myself don't have their loftiest dreams come true. They die with sweet visions of could-have-beens floating through the windows of their mind, knowing their life found meaning in other ways.

But seeing my name in the Twelfth Chapter of that book, which is ironically about 'The Power of Moments,' was the hammer to my thick skull that someone else saw the value in what I have to bring to this world. I know I will never be the fastest, I will never be the strongest, the smartest or the most decorated. But dang it, I matter. I'm worth something. I have something to contribute and share.

I don't have to be scared to try or to shoot for my loftiest dreams. Because at the end of the day I know I am of worth. Not because somebody else told me so, but because finally for the first time in my whole life I believe it for myself. And even if I fail and go down in a burning ball of flames, I have the confidence of knowing that at least failure teaches you sweeter lessons than the apathy of never giving a rip to push yourself.

Seeing my name at the end of that list triggered a new starting line in my life. One where I, finally in my heart of hearts, believe that I can run without the companionship of constant, nagging doubt. But rather I can run towards my dreams with lungs full of hope, breathing to life who I really can become.

New Digs

This is a bad picture pulled off the realtor's website. But Justin just signed the papers today on this little place for us! Our move date has officially been set for next week and while I will seriously miss being so close to my family, I am so excited to be able to be going back home to Georgia. It's kind of weird moving into a house that I have never been in. But Justin says he likes the different feel of it. There is an alley way behind the house where you pull into the garage/basement level. (I get to have a food storage room again!!) The main level has the kitchen/living/dining/office. The second level is three bedrooms and the third level there is a playroom for the girls. What I am familiar with is the neighborhood, Harmony on the Lakes. It is family heaven. Many of our very good friends, including my best friend Laura are a short walk up the street. The entire neighborhood has sidewalks, walking trails, lakes, tennis, swim, playgrounds. Basically I am just very excited for the atmosphere for our girls that Harmony provides.

Maryn and Brynna will be starting school at Cherokee Charter Academy. At first they were skeptical about going to a charter school. But have warmed up to the idea of smaller class sizes and uniforms, since as Brynna put it tonight "No one will be all worried about being fancier than everyone else!" We are excited for Lauryn and Devyn to be able to take their turn at Canton First United Methodist Preschool, where their older sisters had fabulous preschool experiences. Justin and I are beyond excited to be able to be back in the Hickory Flat Ward. Our hearts are with those members and we love them like family. Practically every time Justin calls he tells me "I am just so excited for you to get back here. Everyone is so amazing." Even my old job told me that they would love to have me back if I was interested in working whatever amount of hours I wanted.

Today the girls and I were dreaming of enjoying a Georgia Fall. I told them that since the driveways are behind the houses on our street, trick-or-treating will be super easy with no driveways to hike up! It's just the fast track to the candy lane! We are also dreaming of Burt's Pumpkin Farm, wassail made from fresh-pressed cider from Hillcrest Orchards. Maryn even suggested that I try my hand at homemade apple pie with some North Georgia mountain apples. (We always left the pies to Grammy, who now lives in Arizona, so it's time for me to step up to the plate!) I am not trying to idealize it, because we have had some tough times in Georgia too and I know life has it's inevitable ups and downs. But it is home. It feels right. After spending the past two years feeling kind of like an outsider, with a few exceptions, it feels good to be walking into open and loving arms and a great life for our children.

Journal Entry - #3

I wrote this entry toward the end of last year...the situation, despite hope of change, remains the same. It's a hard thing...loving someone who's only return is a heavy dose of deep and aching hurt.

As part of my grade for a critical thinking class I took a couple of semesters ago, I had to keep a journal and write about various assigned topics. It was nothing special, just a writing exercise. But they are snippets of me and rather than letting them get shuffled around and lost, I thought I would post some of them on here...

Write about a bad habit, either of yours or that of someone close to you.

'Bad habits' evoke visions of something trivial in my mind. Like my daughter's thumb-sucking habit or my husband's nail biting habit. I wish all bad habits were one's who's greatest consequence were in the inability to scratch a good itch or who guaranteed yourself as a future patient to the local Orthodontist.

Tonight however, my mind is on habits that are far less innocent. Tonight, my mind is on my brother.

My Mom and Dad have both mentioned that out of all their five children, Matt showed great promise. He was one they saw as a child and thought would be very successful in life. Matt is 32 years old and living in a motel my parents pay for to keep him off the streets. He has no car, a minimum wage job he hates that is far below his abilities and has burned every bridge imaginable. He has lied to all of us, stolen from us and has held my parents hostage to witness the destruction and downward spiral of his life.

Matt is a drug addict.

Matt, the child with so much promise....

Despite being given every opportunity to succeed and for redemption and rehabilitation, he has managed to make a wreck of his life. One defined by bad habits, bad choices, vices and running away when things get too tough. With guilt I have many times pondered on the fact that Matt's hard road made mine easier in a way. I have still had to live through the hell of watching my brother destroy himself. But his actions helped shape my own paths of life. There have been nights I have cried, wishing more bumps in my own road of life if they could have meant my brother could have been clean. If he could have lived the life he should have lived.

I am just 18 months younger than my brother. I had a front row seat to watching Matt destroy himself. It took away any temptation in me put a toe on his side of the line. By the time we were both out of high school, Matt's bad habits included chain smoking, excessive drinking, gambling and every drug imaginable, he had done it or was doing it. I on the other hand had gone to the other extreme. Once in the ninth grade I took one puff off a friend's cigarette. That was the end of my foray into the world of vice. To this day, as a 30 year old woman, I have never drank alcohol, never done drugs and even chose to wait until I was in a committed relationship and married to have sex. Because of Matt, in part, I won't allow myself to have vice or addiction play even the smallest role in my life.

Not even an innocent morning cup of coffee or caffeinated beverage.

Matt has always been torn between loving me and hating me. I am after all his only sister. But I have seen him seethe at me as he growled "You stupid, goody-goody b*tch." I hated that he pigeon-holed me like that. Like the intention of my life was to make him look even worse. It wasn't. Never has been, never will be. I just couldn't bring myself to accept the risk of his mistakes for myself. As much as he struggles with hating me, in a way he helped mold me into the person he despises.

I am determined to make of my life what Matt wouldn't make of his own. To live and feel rather than numbly survive. To love the people in my life, not a chemical, not a feeling, not a high. To have goals for myself and work hard towards them, not wonder as I wander aimlessly towards the next hit what I could have done or been. The price was too high and I wish I could take it back; make it different. But out of all the heartache I have to say, thank you Matt, for helping me to take nothing in this life for granted. I owe you one brother.

She Did It!

My friend Beth told me I had to read this book. So I ordered it from Amazon and when I finally read it I was laughing out loud! It was like someone had been spying on my life and written a book about it! It's about "Four sisters, different sizes. Four sisters, early risers. Bouncing balls, climbing trees, tossing mud into the breeze..." Basically it's the tale of four, spirited sisters who were always getting into trouble and pinning the blame on each other....yes, it's a familiar scene here at the Young household!

With Justin in Georgia these past two weeks (and at least two more to go...) trying to get life set up for us there, it's just been me running single parent mode. Which with four, little busy bees is no walk in the park. (Not to mention I am trying to pack up my entire house in the process....) But I like this book because it reminds me that even if most days the kids are seeming to want to go all WWF on each other and I feel I can't take another minute of the bickering, that someday (hopefully sooner than later!) they will band together as sisters and know that despite their differences they can come together, create a united front and know the truly are sisters for life.

I Feel...

I feel hopeful.

I feel a spring in my step.

I feel like dancing.

I feel grateful.

I feel more centered.

I feel anticipation.

I feel blessed.

I feel perspective in my life.

I feel love.

I feel clouds lifting.

I feel like Sarah once again.

Good Things to Come

Grateful

I am grateful when people unite rather than divide. Life is tough enough without humans as a whole trying to rip each other apart. I don't follow politics very closely. However, there are two members of my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, or Mormons as we are nicknamed, who have come into the political limelight. I have been nauseated as I have read about how they, despite any redeeming qualifications, would never have a chance in politics solely because of their 'weird' religion. I have listened to a Mom tell me her daughter was dismissed from a 'Christian' school solely because of her Mormon beliefs. I myself was ridiculed and picked on in high school by a group of 'Christian' kids because of my Mormon beliefs. I had a friend of another faith tell me she loved a certain song about Christ's love, but was told she couldn't sing it in church, however wonderful it may be, because it was written by a Mormon musician. Another friend, who had a deep and abiding testimony of Jesus Christ, was told she couldn't teach at a Christian Preschool because she is a Mormon. I had a man from another church come into our sacrament service once and tell the entire congregation that if we didn't follow him to his church we were all going to Hell. And the tales go on....

Being a Mormon takes a thick skin sometimes. At one point the United States government had an extermination order sent out against people of our faith...in the land of religious freedom. In the land where those same people who were left to be scattered or massacred had fathers and grandfathers who had given their lives in the Revolutionary War so that they could secure the freedom to worship according to the dictates of their own conscience. So I get having to have a thick skin. Those who are truly converted don't do so out of convenience, but rather a burning testimony of truth. Being a Mormon takes a lot of dedication and yet we do it because we love our Savior, Jesus Christ, and we love our Father in Heaven. It is so frustrating that the entire center of our belief system is focused on the true gospel of Jesus Christ and yet people claim we are not Christians. A love for our Savior is central to our beliefs and yet we are damned to Hell in the eyes of some. It is so disheartening to be so misunderstood by so many people who claim themselves to be 'Christians'. Over the years I have kind of built up a little shell with 'Christians.' Ones who will really like you until they find out you are a Mormon and then look at you like the devil. Ones who claim to be one thing with their mouth and another with their actions.

So tonight I am grateful for a recent interaction with a true Christian. I was in a place where I was struggling with a relationship with my brother. I was hurt and angry and peace was far from my heart. I felt I was carrying with me a wound that would never heal. Then to my rescue came a post from Justin's cousin, Keira, on her blog.

Keira, who is Catholic, shared with me a prayer that was meaningful to her and it really calmed my soul and helped to bring peace back into my heart and helped me to set a different course in my mind in regards to my brother. I was so touched by Keira sharing that piece of her heart and soul and by sharing her faith. I was grateful that in that moment that religion wasn't a dividing line. But rather another bucket at the Savior's well in which I could draw cooling relief from.

I know in my heart that God loves all of His children. I know we are all brothers and sisters to our Savior, Jesus Christ. I was so grateful for Keira, for getting it. For sharing the good instead of spreading the bad. For lifting the burden of another, as Christ would have. Her faith helped motivate me to live mine more fully and I am grateful for that. Grateful that in a world full of divide, there are people who still seek to unite and encourage and share. Thank you Keira, you touched my heart.

The Prayer of St. Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

Georgia Fall

As I sweep my floors and listen to Dixie Chicks this morning I am almost transported back to Georgia. I can see my linoleum in my old kitchen, smell the fresh, Georgia Fall air wafting through the screens and mixing with smells of chocolate chip pumpkin bread baking. I can practically feel through this overcast Oregon morning the light reflected down from clear, cloudless, blue, Southern skies. I have missed so many things about the South. Things that at one point I almost had to put out of my mind so that I could embrace my present. But knowing that we will be back in Georgia this Fall fills my heart with a slice of home like you can't imagine.

Love This...

Pinterest

Holy cow, I may have found a new addiction and it's Pinterest. Rather than having favorites scribbled on bits of paper that get shuffled around before fruitlessly being thrown away I can organize all my likes in one place...pure love!

I am just getting started but check it out and join in on the fun!

http://pinterest.com/sarahyoung/

Pickwick

If you have less than 5 minutes to spare for a total jam, you have to check out this new band from Seattle called Pickwick. The whole Young Crew is fully in love with them. It is only a matter of time before they blow up. They are just too dang good to be hiding out in the little-known music scene. I now have a secret dream of being a tambourine or maraca player in this band! ;)

Journal Entry - #2

As part of my grade for a critical thinking class I took a couple of semesters ago, I had to keep a journal and write about various assigned topics. It was nothing special, just a writing exercise. But they are snippets of me and rather than letting them get shuffled around and lost, I thought I would post some of them on here...

What does creativity mean to you, or what does it mean to be creative?

When I think back to my childhood, I realize that I must have been one of the luckiest girls in the world. It began when I was six years old and my family moved to a suburb just north of Atlanta, Georgia. Life as the only girl in a house full of brothers was oftentimes oppressive. While they would play and roughhouse together, I was oftentimes only the comic relief as the victim of their teasing. I yearned for a sister of my very own. Someone who would understand me and my shy but silly ways. Someone who would play with me. Someone to be my very best friend.

One Spring morning when the dogwoods were in bloom, not long after we had moved into our new home, a moving truck pulled up to the house right next to my new home. It didn’t take long for me to investigate and discover that the new family that belonged to all those belongings was a nice Greek couple and their three children. The one who was of the most interest to me though was their friendly-faced middle daughter. A seven-year-old, dark-haired and olive-skinned girl named Tina.

I was amazed that this little girl who looked the opposite of my fair skin and blonde hair could so instantly feel like my twin. The sister I had always wanted and had been six years removed from. We shared shy but silly ways and found ourselves completely inseparable. We would play for hours on end. Dress up, dolls, roller-skating, exploring, making up pretend commercials with the big, bulky video camera. We would giggle over Mad-Libs and laugh while we made silly voices. We had nicknames, friendship earrings, friendship bracelets, friendship t-shirts, secret friendship notebooks, matching bedding…basically we were the very best of friends.

Tina and I are now two grown women living on opposite sides of the world. I find myself calling small-town Oregon my new home, while Tina is adjusting to a brand new life living in Copenhagen, Denmark. We keep up through blogs and still feel like kindred spirits. Both of us enjoy (although she is far better at) writing, photography, cooking and enjoying the simple things that make life so special.

When I think of creativity I think of Tina and our childhood together. I think of those balmy summer days, where we would run free until the sun went down, being anything we wanted to be. I think of the endless hours spent in front of her big, pink dollhouse creating a whole new world, all within the borders of her lavender-colored walls. I think of someone my own size who loved me for me. Grown-up life can sometimes feel as oppressive as an older, teasing brother. Creativity allows me to recapture those happy moments that Tina and I shared so abundantly as girls. It transports me to another time. It allows me to clear my mind and feel the freedom to dream, to think, to be silly and to use the imagination that fueled our childhood.

I want...

...well to be honest, lots of things. But lately I've realized that we could seriously be a Roomba family. (You know, those little, robot vacuum cleaners that just roam around the house all day cleaning up after you.) My kids produce crumbs quicker than rabbits reproduce young and it's kind of a daunting task to keep up with!

Journal Entry

As part of my grade for a critical thinking class I took a couple of semesters ago, I had to keep a journal and write about various assigned topics. It was nothing special, just a writing exercise. But they are snippets of me and rather than letting them get shuffled around and lost, I thought I would post some of them on here...

Write about a time in which you received a compliment that meant a lot to you.

Several years ago I worked as a Pediatric Dental Assistant. The other Assistant that I worked closely with in the practice was a spunky woman, twice my age named Tammy. What I learned to love the most about Tammy was the very thing most of our other co-workers had the hardest time accepting about her. Tammy had a knack for saying it how it was. Her social-filter, if you will, was set on 'low'. If you wanted a straight shooter, she was your Annie Oakley. I was a decade younger then, just freshly twenty years old and still figuring out how the world works. It was Tammy's bluntness that helped me figure it out faster.

I spent the better part of my childhood and teenage years being plagued with insecurity. I was shy and had a hard time accepting myself or accepting compliments from others with grace. I felt like if I thanked someone for their kind words it meant that I agreed with them about those positive things they had praised me for. And for a girl wracked with self-doubt that was a tall order.

One day, Tammy paid my meek, little, self a compliment. I don't even remember what it was about. It could have been "You have nice eyes." or "You did a good job with that patient." Whatever it was, in typical fashion, I started rejecting the compliment. "Oh, no I don't." or "It was no big deal." Tammy stopped me dead in my tracks and said "Do I look stupid to you?" I was blown away and completely caught off guard. "No." I stammered. "Well," she shot back "when someone pays you a compliment and you throw it back, it means you think that person is stupid. It means you don't value their opinion." Feeling the heat, I tried to backpedal and explain how it was because of my own insecurities that I had a hard time accepting compliments. Not because I didn't value the opinion of the person paying the compliment. "Well," she said "then you learn some manners and just say 'Thank you.' whether you agree or not!"

It has been years since we have worked together. Our lives have both changed and we both moved away from Georgia. But we still keep in touch and she will always be a dear friend to me. I'm thankful to have had a Tammy in my life in those 'figuring-it-out' years. One who cared about me enough to tell it like it was and put me in my place when I was wrong. Any time I receive a compliment now, whatever the reason, I smile a little smile, think of Tammy and politely say "Thank you."

A Private Concert & Interview

We were waiting for Maryn and Brynna to be done with piano lessons. So Lulu and I went and got a Blizzard to share from Dairy Queen and chatted in the front seat of the car for a bit. Lauryn loves singing and making up her own songs, but gets shy anytime she realizes someone is listening and will clam up. My mom is always saying "I hope you are getting her on film!" in regards to capturing the sound of her voice and personality. So when she broke out in one of her impromptu songs, I thought I'd grab my camera and see if I could capture a bit of her. She was playing along with it and I was so excited I was getting it....and then my camera kept running out of memory! Dang! At least I was able to catch a snippet of my entertaining little Lulu Belle!

"Friend"

I stopped blogging when life got busy. I had another baby, I went back to work, I got behind on everything it seemed like, I moved, I got even further behind, I had another baby, I went back to school and on and on and on. I turned to Facebook to keep in touch with people and I will be totally honest, it was so much easier than writing. But I've found that easy isn't always best. When I would write before I was an open book. It wasn't the one sentence, you have X amount of characters, Reader's Digest version, window to a person's mind, motivation and soul. Those who read my blog I felt knew the true me and that was extremely gratifying in some weird way. I formed friendships with people who I had never even met in person or hadn't seen in years and yet we related. We understood one another.

I can't describe how I have felt lately...It's a mixture of a lot of things, but to be honest, I have felt lonely. The things in life that matter most are in tact and I am so grateful for that. I just feel like I am here and, with a few exceptions, people will occasionally smile but no one really cares to take the time to know who I am. It's been really hard to come to grips with because I came from a place where I felt so loved and so accepted. I asked Justin the other night "Am I approachable? Am I putting off this weird vibe that I am not recognizing?" I try to be friendly but after a year and a half of being here I still so often find myself so often on the outside looking in.

I think I have been thinking on that quite a bit because lately I have had this internal struggle with Facebook. I don't think it is bad or anything, but it felt to me just what it's name "Facebook" suggests. Something external. Something surface. Something face-deep. I am not trying to over think this but as I looked through my "Friends" list tonight, I thought about what it meant to be a friend. I thought about the people in my life who have been true friends to me. So many of the people on that "Friends" list didn't share memorable life experiences with me. They didn't contribute to who I am now. Some I felt like a weirdo commenting on their posts because they would never respond. I thought "Oh geez, am I that person they politely tolerate?" Some probably didn't think about me past a fleeting memory.... I had no feelings of meanness or malice towards them but I thought to myself "I feel so detached from the world right now...and I really just need to surround myself with those that I feel really care." So I clicked and clicked and clicked and before I knew it I had deleted almost 50 of those "Friends." My yearning is for my interactions with people to be genuine. For the people I share my life with to be more than intermittent voyeurs.

6 Months Already?!

Oh my, I just love this baby!!!! I can NOT believe Devyn is six months old already! She is still as sweet as ever, loves to smile and be snuggled. She has not decided to roll over yet and is pretty much content to kick and grab at toys from her back. She is sprouting two new teeth right now and has barely made a bit of fuss about it even though she is stuffy and uncomfortable. She has got to be one of the most laid-back kids I have ever met!

Breaking News!!!

I am a bad blogger!!! Haha, I had you tricked into thinking you were going to find out something you didn't already know, right?! I know, I know excuses are lame. But I have been doing a Project 365 on facebook (which is taking a picture and telling about it every singe day of the year). So I really am documenting my family every single day...just not on here. Which the whole point of the bliggity-blog thing for me is to preserve moments for the Crew, so I'm not beating myself up too bad about my absence. I also have gone back to school and have been busy with homework, research, essays, discussion forums, journaling, and lots and lots of crunching of equations. So, I promise little neglected blog, I haven't forgotten your purpose. I'm just utilizing other mediums!

This post made me so happy today! It is from the blog of my best friend growing up, Tina. My childhood was unimaginably special because of that girl. And just for the record, childhood drama aside, I would be her twin any day!