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.

A Heavenly Scare

I can't believe I quit writing so quickly after the beginning of the year-New Year's Resolutions...aargh! I'm not feeling inspired to write anything insightful, but I want to keep trying to make writing a habit, so today I'm going to copy down a journal entry I wrote a few weeks ago... We had a scary experience last night (8/16). We went camping at Hope Campground up the Provo Canyon. Beck had so much fun walking around & playing with sticks & rocks. He wore his flannel to match Daddy, but then Daddy didn't bring his flannel (or any warm clothes). After our dinner of shrimp & crab we laid Beck down in our tent. To our surprise he barely whimpered & fell right to sleep. After too many s'mores we also crawled in bed. Unfortunately the tent zippers woke Beck up & he felt his 2 1/2 hour nap was good enough. He exploded into hyper sleep-deprived mode. It was cute & funny for about 10 minutes before we realized he wasn't going to calm down. He was crawling over us, scratching, pulling hair & falling down with his head smacking the ground. He wasn't safe to himself. Ben finally had too much and we decided maybe Beck needed familiarity. Ben took him to the car and put him in his carseat. A long while later they returned to the tent, but neither of their moods had changed. Beck was still out of control and Ben was exhausted and at his wits' end. We tried to ignore Beck but he was inflicting pain on us and himself. Finally I told Ben to just go strap him in the car and crack the window open. My hope was that he'd tire himself out quickly but in a confined space where he'd be safe. Also he'd be away from us. I had a bad feeling about putting him in the car. He'd be away from us, but then I thought that he always sleeps in his own room away from us. There are always horror stories on the news of kids being left in cars and I was thinking of how warm the car might get before he woke up in the morning. Also I didn't want him sitting in the car and thinking we had left him. Ben took him and I told myself he'd be fine only 50 feet away with the window open so we could hear him. We went to sleep and it seemed like Beck had accepted it and went straight to sleep. Some time later I was pulled out of sleep by faint crying. There had been a crying baby further away and I thought it was her until the crying didn't stop. I told Ben that Beck was crying and asked if he'd locked the car. He barely muffled a sleepy no. I hurried out of my sleeping bag and out of the tent. I had to go around to the far side of the car and as I opened the door I looked for Beck in his carseat. He wasn't there. In the dark I could barely make out anything and Beck's cries still sounded muffled. I looked around quickly and there face-down on the floor was my baby. In the way time often is during panic mode, the next 30 seconds happened in slow motion. The front seat was reclined and I fumbled to get it out of the way before I could get to Beck. Confused and scare I wondered why Ben put him to sleep on the floor before I realized Beck hadn't been strapped in and had fallen on the floor. As I picked him up I feared the worst and prepared myself for blood and a broken nose or worse. Straining in the moonlight to see, I scooped Beck up and wrapped him in his blanket. He instantly cuddled into me and, with his binkie, went back to sleep. I carried him back to the tent and carefully laid him down with love and safety between his parents. I told Ben what had happened and asked why he hadn't strapped Beck in. At the time I was seething mad and couldn't believe my husband could be so selfishly careless. He voiced to me that he'd thought Beck would be okay and was thinking to himself, "Well, why didn't you tell me to strap him in." By wings of a prayer we got home very late and still showered and made it to 1:00 church with time to spare. As I sat through the meetings the events played themselves out in my mind again and again. I finally found peace as I realized that our son is protected. I believe the Lord tried to tell me there was trouble ahead. He knew beforehand that Ben would not strap him in and tried to warn me. Ben had the same promptings and also decided it would be okay because it was like sleeping in his room. I don't know what happened in the car. Maybe Beck used the reclined chair as a stair and climbed down onto the floor. Maybe he slid out of his chair like he does when we get him out. Or maybe he fell out as he groped around in the dark. What I do know now is that when his parents had failed him, the hand of the Lord protected him. I now that Beck found a cushion beneath him and loving arms around him. I know that when he was scared, his Heavenly Father comforted him and with patience called out again to tell me my son was in need. I'm grateful for the Savior who has allowed for repentance after neglect. I am glad for a loving Heavenly Father who understands and wants us to succeed. I'm especially grateful that the Lord knows my son and holds him up in his time of need.

My Reflection

My grandfather passed away 10 or 12 years ago after a long period of heart ailments. I was a teenager then-at an age where I wasn't included in the adult conversation but still indirectly aware of all that was going on. Intimate communication has not been abundant within my family and the difficulty my father had with that momentous occasion in his life caused the lack of conversation to be all the more apparent. I remember Grandpa Aalbers being a source of humor and joy in my life. He was a hard worker and a joker. My memories begin well after he had sold his farm, but he and my grandma still had sheep and chickens and row upon row of home-grown vegetables. I can remember feeding the baby sheep out of a glass bottle with a black rubber nipple and watching the sheep run up the shoot to be loaded on the truck and taken to auction. I also can remember the stench of the chicken coop, dozens of cats swarming over my feet to reach their food, and picking strawberries in the field across the street. My most frequent memories of my grandfather, though, are of him teasing my sisters by calling them the wrong name and laughing as he sat in his recliner. He always had pink bubble gum in a cardboard cigar box in the sun room and it was a special treat when he took it off the shelf and opened up the lid. We used to crawl in the sprawling vinyl backseat of his car and he and Grandma would take us for soft-serve ice cream. He didn't go to church, but he always drove Grandma there and often came to visit us while he waited-always bringing with him a selection of the week's freshest garden crop. It is common to hear someone remark, "he was a humble man," after the passing of a loved one. I do not know if my grandfather was humble. When he died I wasn't yet to an age when humility meant anything to me. I don't know if he was an intelligent man or a wise man. I just know that he was my grandpa. Tonight as I ponder the loss of the beloved President Gordon B. Hinckley, prophet and president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I ask myself why the "old men" that lead our church are able to inspire me. I have heard criticism from people outside of the church that the high leadership is too old and too male to understand and guide people as we move into this new century. Only now as I'm typing away on my keyboard am I beginning to understand why they mean so much to me. The elders and apostles of the Mormon church are each in their own right educated and accomplished individuals. They've come to their position as church leaders from all facets of business and industry-medicine, law, agriculture, aviation, education...the list is long (the same can be said for the many women in church leadership roles). They are smart men with a desire to share their knowledge. They are humble men who show no hesitation in displaying their flaws and what they were brought to learn from those flaws. Each season at our church General Conference we are counseled of the dangers of our day and admonished to do what is necessary to find ourselves outside of the destruction. Our leaders are disciplinarians, even when it is not in their nature to be so. Also, they wear their faith on their sleeves. I have heard it recounted time and time again that to meet these great leaders in person is to feel the Lord's countenance shining. They are mortal men aspiring to live the teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and they are succeeding. I am in a different place in my life as I enter my thirties than I was at the passing of my grandfather in my mid-teens. My grandpa was a good man and had a hand in shaping my childhood. I now look towards these wise and reverent men for hope and guidance in the ways which I should go. I'm just now beginning to realize these men remind me of my grandfather; they are hardworking and personable and often show a great sense of humor. My ability to be inspired and affected through their words and actions comes from a feeling that, like a loving grandfather, they want the best for me and are willing to share all the attributes I've listed to make the path my path easier.

Be As Little Children

At the end of what has seemed to be an unending week full of twists and turns, I feel impressed to write about a simple thing that I've noticed in my son Beck. At eight months old he has the faculties to be in control of his life. What's greater is that he uses them. What am I talking about? Of course, he will for a long long time depend on his parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and numerous other adults to help him through life. But each day as I watch him I am amazed at what he has already learned. Beyond amazement, I marvel at how so many of the natural controls a baby exercises in his life each day are in large part forgotten by the age of adulthood. To give an example, let me describe mealtime. Beck certainly has not learned manners yet. He sets with his mouth hinged wide open and his arms flailing waiting for the coming spoonful of food to be shoveled in his mouth, and if it does not get there quick enough he surely lets me know. As his belly begins to get full, however, the open cavern gets smaller and smaller until he's content enough to get distracted with what's going on around him and his mouth just quits opening. His body tells him when it has had enough and he listens and obeys. (The trick is for me to also be paying attention and stop when he shows me he is full.) How simple it is for him to eat and stop eating according to his body's natural ability to regulate itself! It's not to say I can't get another bite into him-I can. But, in addition to looking out for his nutritional well-being, my role is to help him recognize moderation and restraint. I can do that by listening when he tells me he is full. So, why can't I do that with my own belly? I'm positive my parents were not shoving unwanted food down my throat all through my childhood (french-cut green beans and Spanish rice, aside). It hardly seems useful to try and pinpoint a moment in life where I decided I would start eating to the point of overindulgence. Why do any us of need to do that? Isn't it interesting, though, that so many of us do push past that point that our bellies tell us not to? I know, of course, that a large problem now is that we're eating faster and before our stomachs can say, "Enough," we're out the door and onto the day's next event. But, even in those cherished long and leisurely social gatherings when the body has ample time to give us warnings, we tell it, "Shhh," and keep on eating. The focus in my mind is not to specifically pick out eating and overeating. It is to realize that as babies grow into children and children into adults there are simple and natural behaviors that are often left to fade away. Only eating until we're full, getting sleep and rest when we become tired, squirming around kicking our legs and batting our arms because we have energy and know we need to use it-I think these are some of the child-like attributes we are often counseled to express.

New Year, Better Me

It's a new year and not a single cliche on my plate. My new year is starting off great. Which is not to say I've foregone making any resolutions at all. I'm just going to give my weight a break and not beat myself up uselessly over the number of hours I spend reading my scriptures. This year my goals are more specific and I feel confident they're obtainable. Now, so that in a few months I can be reminded that I did have goals back at the beginning of the year, here are my 2008 New Year's Resolutions: Watch less tv and read more books

Adjusting to life as a stay-at-home mom has been a bumpy road for me. Fortunately, I seem to have settled in and treasure the afternoons when all I accomplish is rolling around and laughing with my little boy. Surprisingly, it has given me a chance to slow down and re-explore some of my interests from the past. I want to cultivate those interests by feeding them and making my mind work.

Write once a week

In middle school my free time was filled with creative writing. Sometime between then and now I quit using pen and paper to express myself. Although my creativity has been replaced with much more practical and literal thinking, I want to see my thoughts written down again. It's always been a source of growth and learning. I want to see where that takes me.

Have fun planning and taking our family celebration trip in Europe

Of my four resolutions, this will be the easiest. I forced myself to wait for January 1 to start making trip plans. Now it's full steam ahead! My inner desire for this goal is that at the end of it all the three of us will have seen everything we wanted to see and learned more than we could have imagined without bitter feelings or undue stress.

Encourage & support Ben in finding a job that he'll love in a place that we'll love The first half of this year is going to be extremely exciting and extremely scary. We've felt already how easy it is to become complacent, but are determined to find ourselves six months from now challenged and beginning life anew in the place the Lord has prepared for us. I'm shooting towards these goals. Feel free (PLEASE) to ask me now and then how I'm doing. Your advice and support is invaluable, and, please, let me wish you the best of luck in whatever you set forth to do in 2008!