Saying Good-bye

Recently my boys' best friends moved with their family to North Carolina to be closer to their grandparents.  It was a sad day for us all.  Driving home from their house the night before his friends would leave, Beck and my husband had a tender conversation about how life changes from time to time.  It was one of those parenting moments when we wanted to wrap our arms around our little ones and protect them from all things sad that happen in the world.  

The truth is, it was sad for me to.  You see, I am supposed to be the one who moves away.  I do the leaving.  Working in the seasonal hospitality industry, it was my normal routine to move somewhere, make 2-3 close friends, and then wave good-bye as our contracts came to an end.  Some tears, some sincere attempts to keep in touch, and then we'd simply find ourselves on our merry way.  There are a few people I've kept in contact with over the years, but the reality of distance and time usually take their toll.  Thinking back on the fabulous people I've been blessed to know makes me smile and hold back tears simultaneously, but that's the life I have become accustomed to.

So when I tell you my boys' best friends moved away, I must also say that one of my good friends has moved away as well.  And it's a very new feeling to be the person left behind, to watch somebody else do the leaving.  Not because there aren't other people to hang around with, and not because I needed that relationship to validate me.  Rather, because the event represents everything changing in my life as settled down mother of four in suburban America.

Beck, Peyton, and I of course have other friends.  For me that is still the same as before-a small group of beautiful people who make me better just by knowing them.  Our old friends came into our lives when we joined an in-home Joy School, and now we've joined a new homeschool play group where we're getting to know a brand new group of people.  Our lives will go on, they will just never be quite the same.  

How have you helped your children deal with friends moving away?

The Devil Hates You

That's what my husband said to me last night.  I had just told him I was really unhappy and felt like I was being punished for 15 years of selfish decisions.  He saw it differently.  This is what he had to say:

We have two incredible children.  The older is brilliant and funny and incredibly hard to lead.  He lives life with complete emotion and isn't easily swayed to do what he knows is wrong.  The younger brought to earth the joy of heaven and a smile that can brighten even the darkest day.  They are both supported by the love of their Heavenly Father and my role is to raise them righteously.  As strong as they are, they will still need a mother who can teach them how to love and serve and rely on the powers of the Atonement in hopes of returning to live with their Father in Heaven.

The devil is aware.  He knows the struggle it's going to be to get at my children and attacks the target he sees as weak.  That's me.

"...and he shall wear out the saints of the most High..."-Daniel 7:25

A few weeks ago I read an enlightening commentary on the Devil as Accuser.  The author described Satan as the one who incites us to sin and then stands by to remind us, accuse us, and taunt us about every thing we have ever done wrong.  My husband equated the devil to "The Big Tattle-Tale." When he stands before God and brags about the terrible we are doing, the Lord turns away without giving his words one moment of thought.  Not to be rebuked, though, the devil retreats and returns to working on an audience more receptive to his message.

"And the dragon was wroth with the woman, and went to make war with the remnant of her seed, which keep the commandments of God, and have the testimony of Jesus Christ."-Revelations 12:17

It became clear to me after reading this article and doing my own study of the scriptures that Satan is after the righteous.  He has nothing to gain from a person living a life less than that.  That is the point my husband, last night, was making.  As I try to follow the commandments of God and raise my boys to make righteous choices, the devil attacks me.  He gets afraid of losing ground and when I don't make it easy for him he sends his minions to surround me with a constant barrage of evil thoughts, self doubt, and thoughts of giving in to make sure that he wins in the end.

"Submit yourselves, therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you...For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us...that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."-James 4:7, Romans 8:18,38-39

My night and conversation with my husband did not end with a great lightening of worries and cares; the devil's stronghold is hard to break.  But I was able to get out of bed this morning knowing that I have a new opportunity each day to access the blessings of the Savior's Atonement for me. The Devil may hate me, but the Lord has not given up on me.  He will protect me, and my boys, until that day when I can once again stand before Him full of humility and account that I tried my hardest with the life that was given to me.  

In My Heart On Thursday

"One of our sons was spending a few days incarcerated in a local facility to 'pay his debt to society.'  As I looked at his sorrowful countenance behind that glass wall, my heart nearly broken, I only wished I had held and rocked that baby boy.  I couldn't, as hard as I tried, think of a specific time when I had held him on my lap and kissed his head, face, and ears and held him close to my heart.

I had washed that boy, scolded him for misdeeds, sent him to school, even taken pictures of him, but I couldn't remember putting my lips next to his ear and whispering tender, loving, happy words that might have echoed in his memory when he needed them.  When my arms couldn't get to him through that terrible glass barrier, I wanted to remember how it felt to hold him and I wanted him to remember how it felt to be held and loved by his mother.

So, if I could go back, I would hold and rock and sing and whisper love to my child every single day."

                                                                      -Excerpt from Delta, Utah, Ensign Magazine, July 1996

My $100 Dream

I am a thrift store shopper.  And if not a thrift store shopper, then definitely a clearance rack shopper. In Iowa my secondhand store of choice was Goodwill, preferably the Euclid store (or West Des Moines, but it had to be a special treat to make it all the way out there).  In Alaska the goods were at Value Village.  Quality was lacking at Value Village, but when you're thousands of miles from the next thrift store, you take what you can find.  Here in Utah, mecca for used-clothes hounds is Deseret Industries (DI).

Deseret Industries operates along the same lines as Goodwill, I think, offering employment and training services, affordable items for purchase, and a place for the community to donate their time and no-longer-needed belongings.  I support everything DI stands for, but what is the real reason I'm telling you all this?  I have a secret dream...

I want $100 and an entire day alone to DI-hop.  Within 45 minutes driving distance I have access to 10 fabulous stores.  By far my favorites are the Sugarhouse and the American Fork stores.  Sugarhouse always has unique items and American Fork has some tall, presumably wealthy people donating brand new stuff sized perfectly for me.  Whenever this dream shopping spree takes place, I'll start farthest north in downtown Salt Lake City.  That way, if I run out of time or money, I can skip the Provo store and know nothing is there waiting for me.  In the middle of BYU married-housing, that store gets the dregs people have been passing down for generations and should have sent to the trash rather than a merchandising establishment.

Why Deseret Industries you're thinking.  Why not dream and save up for a trip to the mall, or even bigger, to New York City?  Well, first, reality is that holding 100 free dollars in my hand is a pipe dream.  When that great party day arrives, I need to get the most bang for my buck.  I can walk out of the mall with 2-3 things or out of DI with 12-15 things.  Beyond the limitation of money, though, I see cute things peeking out at me every single time I go to DI.  Usually I'm there shopping for my kids or trying to find that hidden gem out in the yard (for my local readers, do you know about the yard?  I was sick to my stomach when I realized I'd been missing out for years and years).  If I do look through the racks for me, a skirt or shirt is guaranteed to fall in love with me, and once in love I have to take it home.  I'll hide it in the laundry basket until it's cleaned and then slip it in my closet pretending it's been there all along.  My husband laughs at me.  He's pretty sure my $3.00 discovery is not going to drain the coffers.

I'm sure a few of you are appalled by now.  It may not seem I have very classy or lofty goals. If that's what you're looking for, hop over to my SIL's blog Timeless.  Emulating and learning from Aubrey Hepburn, her shopping and fashion knowledge is in a world all her own.  As for me, I've got $20 in the bank.  One day that will grow and you'll find me grinning like a kid in a candy store.  You can find me buried in the racks of everyone else's hand-me-downs.

Photo credit: www.waymarking.com

A Child, Alone

From time to time we hear on the news how a parent or guardian has abandoned their child. This summer in Salt Lake there were several different accounts of parents locking their kids in the car and running off to run errands or catch a movie while their child overheated in the vehicle-sometimes leading to fatal extremes. Other times we hear of children being dropped off and left or a child who's parents leave and never come home. Fortunately, in most circumstances, we don't feel a personal connection to those stories. This week, however, I caught a small glimpse into the eyes of my own child and was remarkably saddened to think of the little boy or girl who's parents walk away. Monday is my cleaning day. Last Monday Beck was playing and I was trying to do the laundry. We live in a basement apartment and our laundry room is upstairs on the landlord's back porch. I almost always throw Beck on top of the dirty clothes in the clothes basket and tote him up to the washer & dryer with me, but this particular moment he was content with what he was doing and I knew I wasn't going to be long. I ran up the stairs to switch my laundry loads and hurried back to the stairs as quickly as I could. As I came around the corner and started down the stairs my eyes fell upon Beck waiting for me at the bottom. His blond curls on his tiny head were leaning out the door, his big eyes were sparkling, and he wore a humongous grin. I chuckled out loud as I hurried down to scoop him up and give him a big hug. He knew I had gone and trusted that I would be right back. He knew he wasn't allowed to go up the stairs without me, so he excitedly waited at the bottom to see me reappear. That's exactly what the faith of a child teaches us to do. As I hugged Beck and we walked back inside I began to think about stories I'd heard recently of children being abandoned for both long and short periods of time. Every child is born with faith to trust the people who love and take care of them. Tears began to well up as I imagined the faces of innocent children, with the same trust in their eyes, watching their loved ones walk away and anticipating their speedy return. I want to know how long children stay where they are before their lips begin to quiver and they start to wonder what happened to mommy and daddy. My heart aches to think of Beck waiting so long that he falls asleep in the middle of the doorway or gets bored and goes back to his toys until gets hungry, or thirsty, or needs his diaper changed. I'm getting better at putting Beck down for his afternoon nap and leaving him there whether he falls asleep or not. I know he needs time to wind down and be quiet and rest-and quite frankly, I need that too. It was hard at first to listen to him cry and call, "Mommy," but I know it's best for him and after a few days we developed an understanding that after he had rested, Mommy would come back to get him up. It still breaks my heart to hear him crying and I peek in on him from time to time to make sure he's not just staring at the door, but usually he quickly finds his monkeys and puppies and lays down to have a quiet conversation with them before succumbing to a good long nap. I imagine that most children, if left long enough, will find themselves asleep and resting. I can't imagine having my child wake up and not have someone come in shortly to pick him up and tell him that he's loved. I don't want to know how a child entertains themselves until somebody happens to come looking for them. That brings to mind, too, the stories we sometimes hear of children saving their parents by calling 911 or, more sadly, not being able to help a parent who has a medical emergency and loses consciousness or even dies with only a child there to watch. What a sad thing to see your parent not responding or able to get up and help you in anyway. I'm thinking of one story in particular where the mother had passed out and her young child, after not being able to get mommy's attention, curled up on the floor next to her and fell asleep. Somebody stopped by hours later and found the two of them laying on the living room floor-sleeping child wrapped in the arms of her mother who had passed away. Our children love and trust us and for that we can be eternally grateful. Ben and I watched the Italian movie Life is Beautiful this weekend. I had never seen it and was a little surprised when he recommended it with such high praise. I'm truly glad he did. It has given me thoughts and emotions to act as a balance against these sad thoughts swirling around in my head. The movie takes place in WWII Italy and involves an Italian woman and a Jewish man who marry and have a child together. The man is quite creative and spontaneous and a little ridiculous and it's fun to watch them courting and beginning their little family. Then he and his son are taken and put onto train cars bound for Hitler's abhorrent concentration camps. In a touching way, the plot twists for a moment while the woman becomes the character wearing her heart on her sleeve and insists on riding on the train wherever it is going. The love of this man for his son was overwhelming. From the moment they were taken his only desire was to protect his son from fear and the awful reality of what was happening. They were suffering greatly, but his son did not need to know. The man continued to be creative and spontaneous and went from being ridiculous to being brave. His son did have moments of fear and doubt and sadness, but his father determined to be there for him every step of the way. Even while taking his last march, the man's focus and goal was on his family and getting them through the horror so they could once again see the color and light and blessing of life. Most parents I know would give everything to protect their children from harm and evil. I don't know anybody heartless enough to turn and walk away from the loving upturned eyes of their children. On the contrary, I'm blessed to have people like my sister Brooke and my sisters-in-law Callie and Angie, who embody the spirit and action of the Jewish man in Life is Beautiful. In their everyday lives they are full of life and creativity and sometimes are just a little bit ridiculous. They are inspiring (and a little bit intimidating) and show me a better way to be. Children are an incredible blessing. Having a family and raising my own child is an incredible blessing to me. My prayers are filled with hope and love for anybody who is suffering, but especially for the lonely child who is wondering when their parent is going to come back home.