This Season is Not For Me

My husband and I have an agreement.  When the outdoor thermometer reaches 50, I'll bundle myself up and come out to play (curse Mother Nature for interrupting my hibernation with a balmy Utah December). Winter is not my season. Let me share with you a representation of the wintertime experiences that have chiseled me.

Iowa
Anyone who has grown up in the Midwest will emphatically tell you that cold is cold.  Ice and wet, heavy snow combine with wind to cut through to the bone.  Blizzards trap you inside with the thrill of surviving without electricity.  The moonlight sparkling on deep ice-crusted snow brings peace and creates moments to peacefully ponder an unbroken world.  Until you have to go out in it.

As a teenager I found myself in with an afternoon paper route that I hated.  In summer it was a 2-hour bother.  In winter it was absolute sensory torture.  Trudging through unshoveled sidewalks and drives, I came home soaking wet to painfully thaw out my limbs and digits.  Only one time did I attempt to speed the process along on wheels.  At first the quickness and the dryness seemed a luxury.  What I'd never experienced on foot, though, were the unplowed icy roads.  Barely half an hour into my daily routine I watched my front bicycle tire slip to the left as the back tire slid to the right.  I, with my 25 newspapers, landed flat in the middle of the two. Now wet from head to toe, I picked up my soggy papers, wiped away the tears burning themselves onto my frozen face, and finished the last 90 minutes of my route.

Fast forward 10 years to a better paying job and a better mode of transportation.  We lived on an unmaintained gravel road.  Driving home from my minimum wage job at nearly midnight, I crept along the icy highway to the gravel  home stretch.  Confident I'd made it home, I tried to drive through one last drift.  A mile from home, stuck in the middle of the road, there was no hope of breaking free.  My options were to sit there crying and cursing, or get out and run home...I ran home... in high heel boots with no coat, gloves, or hat.  I ran in the back door, through the kitchen, past my family playing cards, and straight to the blazing fireplace.  I almost jumped into that fire.  My chest and cheeks were burning.  Dad went to dig out my car and an hour later I could finally feel my nose.

Alaska
With a knowledge of how much I hate winter, I should have moved south when I flew my parent's nest.  Instead, I headed north to Fairbanks, Alaska.   The northern lights are magical crackling across the dark night (and dark day) sky, but there's a penalty for that reward.  Every car has snow studs, an oilpan heater, and battery plug-in, and every driver has a second set of keys.  Locked up cars run in the parking lot for hours while their drivers finish their shopping or enjoy a date night movie.

Fairbanks is the place I came to know what -56 degrees feels like.  An innocent evening of dancing turned into something entirely different when our ride decided to leave without telling me.  He did tell my roommate, but well into her New Year's Eve drinking, she decided not to remember that until the bar doors were locking behind us.  Dressed only in a short black skirt and sheer tanktop, I cursed every single life event that had brought me to that place at that time.  Literally freezing to death, we waited huddled together (me gagging with every whiff of my roommate's alcohol breath) for her mom to arrive, chastise us, and deliver us back home.

Utah
Still I didn't feel the kick in the pants telling me to fly for warmer climates.  Rather, I landed here in Utah; home of "the greatest snow on Earth."  Now, Utah winters are mild and endurable compared to what else I've lived through.  The problem is that people who choose to live here do so because there are activities to be doing outdoors all year long.  While my husband and I were dating, he tried to initiate me to his favorite winter activity: skiing.

Worst experience ever.  Both the skiing and allowing my boyfriend be my teacher.  Only making it up the first lift at Sundance, it took me 4 hours to get back down.  I did not have a clue what I was doing.  Every time I was supposed to turn I landed flat on my back (or my front, or my side, or his back, or his side).  I don't know what was more wounded at the end of the day, my body or my pride.  After miraculously getting down the slope one time unbroken, I sent Ben back to the top to get in what he could the rest of the day.  It turned out to only be one more run. We both still feel the pain of that day.

It's been some more years and Utah is still where we stay.  Beck is now 3 and begging us to get on his own pair of skis.  It turns out I woke up one day and found out I was raising mountain babies.  So what do I do?  I watch the snowmen taking shape from the warmth of my living room.  I bundle up and run from the car to the indoor play yards.  I fantasize a day when snowshoeing or cross-country skiing can happen in the heat of July, and I harbor a deep little secret.  I want to tackle the challenge of skiing.  It's cold and the ground is hard, but I want to say I can do it.  Especially if my entire family is soon going to be out there breezing down the hillside.

The Way Life Turns Out To Be

A professor once asked the students of her marriage preparation course, "What are the most important values you are looking for in a spouse?" The lists were long: sense of humour, intelligence, faith, steady job, good family, similar interests, education, sense of adventure, loyalty, stability... The professor then asked, "What one of those values is your top priority?" Without much pause, students responded: sense of humour, intelligence, faith, steady job, good family, similar interests, education, sense of adventure, loyalty, stability... They, like most of modern society, wanted it all. *

We are fortunate to live in an age when any dream can be realized or obtained. What a marvelous thing! We should never take it for granted; we should also never let it cloud our vision. The fact of the matter is, "having it all" only comes after we've obtained important things individually. Very few people win the lottery and see all of their dreams fulfilled in one lump sum. We have to prioritize or instead of achieving all our goals we'll find ourselves many years down the road living with none of them.

 Let's use relationships as an example. Every one of the attributes listed above is noble and desirable. It is natural to judge new acquaintances in accordance with the characteristics we value. The key is not letting the entire list keep us from getting to know a person better. We would remain friendless and alone for eternity. Allowing ourselves to be pulled towards what is good enables us to explore what more could be good. It is here, unfortunately, where we begin to see another sort of problem. Instead of negating all people because they don't match every standard, some people throw common sense out the window and choose instead to naively accept all people. In the end, neither scenario is going to bring us closer to achieving our goals. 

I think every person can benefit from setting down to re-evaluate the areas of life where they've had goals and dreams-work, community involvement, diet, etc. Think back to a time when these ideas were new. What made you smile and feel happy? What ideas did you have about where life was heading? What was most important and have you held onto that as you've moved forward towards achieving your goals? If not, there is still time to pause and reconsider how to redirection your life so that those important attributes surround you. And, then, here's the kicker: What were your dealbreakers? What were the things that you absolutely would not accept? If you ever find yourself questioning why life has turned out so differently than you'd imagined or if there is an aspect of life that continually (or confusedly) makes you unhappy, take a moment to also reconsider these things. 

We are blessed to live in a time where we can achieve every single thing our hearts and minds set out to do. Let us work towards those goals by making sure we stand steadfast on the individual attributes that will make us the person we want to be. (*Thank you to Jacque DeGaston for relating this story)

Thanks for allowing me the liberty to re-post this entry from my first year of writing.  Feeling uninspired in life right now, I'm grateful to the Lord for leading me back to my own enlightened guidance...

May All Your Christmases Be Bright

The winter holidays are meant for kids.  Santa Claus is real, snow falls solely for sledding and building snow families, and a baby (just like I used to be, they'll say) was born in the hay.  When else do we let them bring trees in the house or bury them with brand new toys, shiny paper, and glittery ribbon?  In the thick of it, they'll tell you every bit of it is magical.  It's not until we get a little older that particular pieces of that holiday magic begin to plant themselves in a special part of our memory.  For me, the enchantment was the Christmas tree.

Growing up in Iowa, the formula for the perfect Christmas tree involved waiting for a bitter cold day and swirling biting winds.  The whole family piled out of the station wagon at the country Christmas tree farm, picked up a hacksaw and trudged acres and acres to the farthest, most un-harvested hill.  The arguments then ensued as six girls poured out their hearts in defense of their " perfect"  tree.  Ultimately, Mom got the one she wanted, and the saw went to work chopping down her tree.

The adventure continued on as we dragged our enormous tree back across the snow-laden hills looking for a tractor and trailer willing to give us a ride back to our car.  If we were lucky, the tree would fit in the baler-one year it would not-and a great big Christmas tree bundle got strapped to the top of the car.  Piling back into the station wagon, we raced home to set up our tree.

The happy memories don't end there.  Getting the tree home was only half the act.  Enter Pa-pa and his voice of reason.  "Dawn, that tree is too big.  It won't fit in our house."  He was right nearly every year.  The tree's trunk always  received a second round of shearing before taking it's place front and center in the living room window.

After the tree was decorated and lit, we enjoyed seeing more and more presents accumulate underneath.  We would plug in the lights in the late afternoon and sometime before going to bed, Mom and Dad would unplug it again.  Until Christmas Eve.  On Christmas Eve we all knew the twinkling lights stayed on all night.  Early in the morning (or later in the morning depending on how old we were getting to be), six girls would tumble out of bed, shuffle into the living room and be greeted with the most breathtaking sight!  The glow of the Christmas tree illuminated the room, shining off wrapping paper, and calling attention to a big bag from Santa. Spread out on the floor, in front of the tree, were six stuffed-to-the-brim stockings inviting us to come and partake.  With the allure of new toys, the moment was over in the blink of an eye, but the living room aglow on Christmas morning is what Christmas time magical to me.

Imagine then, the struggle it's been with a husband who grew up a little bit differently.  In a home that in all ways seemed even more frugal than my own, the electric bill at Christmas time apparently just went out the window.  He wants the lights on all the time, day and night and any extra time in between.  Last year we followed each other around, secretly plugging and unplugging.  I was certain he was being obstinate only because he didn't like digging around for the loose cords to fit into the socket.  There had to be a solution before we started our holiday celebrating again this year.

In come our kids.  Even before talking about getting a tree, Beck was telling us excitedly and assuredly that Christmas trees have lots of presents and candy canes.  I have no idea where the candy canes came from, but he was certain and now our tree is covered in candy canes and he's eating one every day.  The first night we had our tree up I heard Beck telling his dad that if he couldn't sleep he would just come out and look at the tree.  The second night we had our tree up, I found him Beck sleeping on the couch and when he woke up the first thing he said was, "I just wanted to lay here and look at this beautiful tree."

A mom's heart melts.  It's a struggle to walk by and see the lights on at all times of the day.  I want my family to know joy the way I remember it as a child.  At the same time, who am I to take away a three-year-old's joy?  Children make the holidays!

An Evolution of Holiday Greetings

I used to try so hard to find the perfect Christmas card-not generic, not preachy, not boring, not something my grandma would send.  Pawing through shelf after shelf of impersonal greeting cards was a tedious task, but, when the perfect box of cards appeared before me, I unhesitatingly snatched them up and sent them out with cheer.  Then, when I met my husband, my Christmas card tradition began to be turned on it's ear.  His entire family was using photo cards long before I had ever heard of them.  Most were sending out the obligatory annual family photo card, however, the "Super Six" were still single, living at home, and living unabashedly against the rules.  The first card I saw them concoct was indescribably ugly-everyone dressed in black with construction paper ornaments framing their heads.  It could only be topped at a later date when I got a glance of the card they had sent out the year before...there certainly should have been no question why none of them had a date for the holidays that year!   

It was fun in our first married years to meld together holiday traditions.  I adopted the photo card tradition and we put our hearts and souls into making sure they were an extension of who we were.  One year we decided to wait until January to send cards and to this day I am in love with the idea of sending New Year greetings.

This year I guess is the year we become old.  We have decided to go the route of the traditional family photo.  The main reason?  This is the first year we've spent the time to find a good photographer and actually think about what we're wearing.  The pictures turned out well and so we're sharing.  The supporting reason?  I found the most beautiful and inspiring holiday photo card on Shutterfly.com.  It melds together the personality of a photo card with the sentimentality of a traditional boxed card.  And I immediately felt it shared our current holiday point of view.

Curious about this card that has inspired it's very own blogpost?  A few of them have already been mailed, a few are waiting for stamps, and I have a stack just waiting for you to tell me you can't wait to see it.  Leave me a comment and I'll get it on it's way!

Doing It Before I Think About It

The Deseret Book at Temple Square is presenting a watercolor art exhibit through the end of the Christmas Season.  The artist is Elder Richard G. Scott (Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints).  After admiring a friend's artwork, Elder Scott began exploring his own artistic abilities and 40 years later is sharing the product of that decision.  A nuclear engineer by trade, Elder Scott has found inspiration and escape through painting.  A hidden talent now on public display.

This particular art exhibit has thoroughly intrigued me as I struggle daily to find inspiration in sharing my own talents.  I am a writer, I feel confident enough to say.  I find joy in putting words together and enjoy when other people read what I have to say. Just as with Elder Scott, maybe people are not aware of that talent within me.   I have not exercised my ability in some time.  Call it writer's block, or laziness, it has been a long time since I've been able to stream together a series of sentences that anyone else would want to read.  It seems the more stressed or overwhelmed my life becomes, the quicker I am to turn away from what should be a source of release.  I feel like I have absolutely nothing to say.

My father-in-law, Duane Hiatt, has been a performer all his life.  Singing, orating, and enacting historical impressions, his talents and abilities have always been out there for the public to see.  When Ben and I were first married it was so exciting to see him performing Lincoln or giving a fireside or singing old 3d's tunes.  I use to be so baffled that his own kids and other in-laws were not as captivated as me.  I've deciphered, though, that it's because Duane has not spent his life afraid to share those songs and stories; they are well-known and well-appreciated by the people who have known him for long periods of his life.

And, so, I find it encouraging that he is now writing a blog in which he's sharing stories and lessons that not everybody has known.  It is surprising people and generations that have known him for awhile, that his ability to tell a story through the written-word is as entertaining as all his other abilities.  Obviously, Duane is in a different time of life than I am, but he's still a busy man finding time to share his thoughts and bring brief rays of light in my sometimes uninspiring days.

We hear all the time that each of us has talents to develop and share.  I know a lot of people but wouldn't say that I know the special abilities of too many of them.  That makes me sad.  I want to know what inspires you, what gives you joy and a break from the mundane-ness of your day.  I want to find more inspiration to share my talents with you-maybe talents I don't even recognize that I have, but definitely the writing ability I know I do have.

With these thoughts as my inspiration today, I'm going to spell-check and post without doing any other proof-reading.  If I take one moment to review and re-think today I know this will turn into one more thought that never makes it out of my head.  Thank you for reading.  Give me the opportunity to reciprocate with your God-given talents and abilities. I look forward to it!