Sacrament Meeting Talk

I gave a talk in sacrament meeting on Sunday.  It was our last week there, but the first time we spoke, so it was sort of an introduction and farewell.  I enjoyed giving the talk.  There is always so much to learn!  The bishop asked me to speak on the part from the Proclamation to the World that says we are all sons and daughters of God and as such "each has a divine nature and destiny."

We all long to be wanted, needed, and important. 

“Every person in the world likes to feel important. Men and women are glad when they feel needed, and so are boys and girls. To know that someone depends on you and believes that what you do and say really matters makes you feel good and want to do your best.” Help me Hold to the Rod, Friend, March 1972, Marion G. Hanks

One of the beautiful truths of the restored gospel is that we are.  The Proclamation to the World on the Family teaches: ". . . each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny." [emphasis added]  The word "each" here is important to me.  It singles us out and differentiates us.  The world seeks to differentiate us by temporal means.  Sam and I had the opportunity, a few years ago, to attend a Walmart gala in which the company's diversity goals were shared, and the fact that Walmart associates were "37% diverse," was touted.  I thought "so does that make the other 63% clones?" The Lord knows us and sees us differently.  "Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart." 1 Sam 16:7  The Lord knows our individual abilities, talents, strengths, and desires.  He knows and has a plan for each of us.  One of the missions of our lives is to come to know what the Lord knows of us, to see what He sees in us, and to fulfill our individual nature and destiny. 

We are sons and daughters of God.  We have divine attributes.  

“There is something of divinity within each of you. You have such tremendous potential with that quality as a part of your inherited nature. Every one of you was endowed by your Father in Heaven with a tremendous capacity to do good in the world. Train your minds and your hands that you may be equipped to serve well in the society of which you are a part. Cultivate the art of being kind, of being thoughtful, of being helpful. Refine within you the quality of mercy which comes as a part of the divine attributes you have inherited.

Some of you may feel that you are not as attractive and beautiful and glamorous as you would like to be. Rise above any such feelings, cultivate the light you have within you, and it will shine through as a radiant expression that will be seen by others.

You need never feel inferior. You need never feel that you were born without talents or without opportunities to give them expression. Cultivate whatever talents you have, and they will grow and refine and become an expression of your true self appreciated by others.” The Light Within You, Pres. Gordon B. Hinkley, Ensign, May 1995

We have divine gifts.  D&C 46:11-12 “11 For all have not every ^agift given unto them; for there are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God.
12 To some is given one, and to some is given another, that all may be profited thereby.”

But we are all different.  If God could be represented by a bright white light, and we all have some of His divine characteristics, we might be different colors of light.  White light encompasses all colors of light, but we are still growing in our divinity.  Some of us may be yellow light, or purple or green or red or blue.  All the colors of light are beautiful and important.  All are of God.  

Satan wants us to believe otherwise.  He tells us we "should" be certain ways, or have certain attributes.  He shows us how others shine and, because our light is different, he would tell us our shining is less important or even worthless.  As if one color in a rainbow is less valuable than another.  With Satan's pernicious "should" he leads us to judge, reject, and condemn ourselves, others and whole situations.  He leads us to devalue ourselves (and others) wrongly.  He doesn't want us to see as Heavenly Father sees, and rejoice in our uniqueness.  He wants us to see only darkness.  Coming to know ourselves and our unique nature and destiny is important.

When I was a young woman growing up in Nashville, TN, I felt fairly confident about my individual worth and divine nature.  I was one of only a handful of members of the Church in my high school and I felt grateful for the gospel and the values, knowledge and choices that set me apart.  I was at the top of my class at a top-tier high school and I considered myself hard-working and intelligent.  My sense of myself and my worth was pretty clear.  Then I went to BYU.  Suddenly, the light of the gospel that I had didn't seem to shine as brightly, as it was surrounded with 30,000 others.  I struggled to know how to shine is such a crowd.  I felt as if part of my worth and my self was diminished.  Then I went on a study abroad trip to Mexico, teaching Spanish literacy.  The people there thought I was pretty dumb.  My Spanish was like a child's.  I didn't know how to make tortillas or wash clothes in the river, and do any of the basics of sustaining life in a family.  The 15 years of education that I had acquired, and which I felt were a very important and valuable part of me, were useless.  In that setting, my education didn't matter at all.  I felt so much of "myself" stripped away, I began to wonder who I was and what was valuable about my life.

Then I got married.  I had majored in Family Sciences, because I knew that families were the  most important work I would do in my life.  It took me two months of marriage to realize I had no idea how to be married.  And then I had a baby and OHH the humility!  It took me even less time to realize I had no idea how to be a Mom!  All the ways in which I had valued myself were gone.  I did not feel smart, hard working, productive, or glowing with testimony.  The things I thought I "should" have been able to do well--the most important things!--were far harder than I had anticipated, and I was not doing them well.  I felt like a failure.

Luckily, during this time, I had some good examples in women around me who let their light shine.  Deena Hollee decided to teach cooking classes to anyone in the neighborhood who wanted to take them.  I learned to make sushi and have loved it ever since.  My visiting teachee, Inge Reni, was an outstanding lady, too.  She taught me, through her own trials, to praise the Lord in all things.  She was from the Caribbean and she knew how to let her light shine.  It was inspiring.  

As the years have passed, I have had to rediscover my "nature and destiny" many times.  I came to understand the important of learning the "mind of the Lord."  Seeing myself as the Lord sees me is the only way to really uncover my nature and destiny.  Learning to listen to what He wants from me, instead of listening to all the "shoulds" the world gives me is essential.  

Previously, I thought that I could go to the Lord for personal revelation about some (big) things, but that I could really rely on all the "shoulds" of the world and even from the church to guide my life.  We can learn many good things to do from others, but I quickly became overwhelmed with all the things I thought I "should" be doing or feeling, or how situations in my life "should" be.  I would start the day with lists so long of all the things I "should" do, that I felt defeated before I even began.  The "shoulds" ended up pulling me away from the Lord.  

I wrote in my journal: 
"The story of Mary and Martha (in Luke 10) also struck me as extremely pertinent as I considered these things:

38¶Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house.

 39 And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus’ feet, and heard his word.

 40 But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me.

 41 And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things:

 42 But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.

Doubtless, Martha wanted everything to be perfect when she received Jesus (and likely many of his followers, too) into her home.  She had expectations how clean it “should” be, which foods “should” be prepared, etc., if she was anything like me.  And so, trying to fulfill all of her expectations about how she would receive the Lord, she was "cumbered about much serving."  She must have been feeling stressed and unhappy when she went to Jesus and asked him to bid Mary to help her.  Her expectations weren't being met.  She was failing as a hostess!  Jesus recognized this immediately, and called it out.  He said she was "careful and troubled" or worried and unhappy about many things (all her expectations of herself, of the situation and of Mary).  As it turned out, though, and as Jesus told her, all her "shoulds" were unnecessary   Only "one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her."  The one thing that Mary was doing--the one important, necessary thing--the thing that Jesus wanted from both of them--was simply that they come to Him and learn of Him and listen to Him.  All of Martha's expectations, preparations and worries were not required of the Lord.  He had not given her those "shoulds," she had gathered them herself, and was not the better for it.  The simple act of sitting at the Savior's feet, however, was all that Mary was doing, and all that needed to be done, and she was the better and happier for it.

If I can recognize the "should's" that I give myself, and instead discover the will of the Lord, or the things that I would like to be anxiously engaged in, I believe I will be much happier.  The Lord doesn't give busy work, he gives us the work of life, and love and joy."

As we seek to better understand our individual, divine nature and destiny, and how the Lord would use us in His kingdom, I think it is important to be wary of "shoulds" about ourselves, others, or situations.  So often, we make a "should" judgement based on our own mind, will, and word rather than the Lord's.  Not every good thing "should" be attempted ever day of our lives.  There were days, as a young mother, when things were so hard and I felt like such a failure.  But when I went to the Lord and asked Him what He wanted of me, it was always do-able (unlike the expectations I had for myself.)  Sometimes it was as simple as: "Today, love your children."  I could do that, and I know it made Him happy when I did.  We can and must go to the Lord to learn our nature and destiny.

Thanks to the restored gospel, we have wonderful resources for learning the mind, will, and word of the Lord for us.  We have the Holy Ghost.  Through prayer, scripture reading, listening to hymns or spontaneously we can receive daily, hourly, or moment by moment direction from Him.  We can go to the Lord every day to learn what He would have us do that day.  His expectations of us are perfect, for He knows us perfectly.  He doesn't ask us to run faster than we have strength, and He knows how to utilize our strengths in joyful ways.

We also have priesthood blessings.  I have received many priesthood blessings from my father and husband which have been instrumental in understanding my own nature and destiny.  

D&C 68:4 And whatsoever they shall speak when moved upon by the Holy Ghost shall be scripture, shall be the will of the Lord, shall be the mind of the Lord, shall be the word of the Lord, shall be the voice of the Lord, and the power of God unto salvation.

Patriarchal blessings can also be a wonderful resource for knowing about ourselves.  My patriarchal blessing is very clear about my nature, and helps me catch a vision of my destiny.    Our Patriarchal Blessings can be like a Liahona—guiding us individually in our earthly mission, helping us know our selves better, and know how God sees us.

You can learn more about your life and mission on earth and the light that is in you by preparing to receive and then studying your patriarchal blessing.  Julie Beck April 2006 “You Have a Noble Birthright.”

““Your patriarchal blessing is yours and yours alone. Your blessing . . . is to be read. It is to be loved. It is to be followed. Your patriarchal blessing will see you through the darkest night. It will guide you through life’s dangers. … Your patriarchal blessing is to you a personal Liahona to chart your course and guide your way. …”

On Being Spiritually Prepared, Thomas S. Monson, Liahona, Feb. 2010

I share my testimony that each of us has a divine nature and destiny, and that we must go to the Lord to learn it.  Our understanding of our nature and worth will likely be challenged again and again, which helps us refine our understandings and go again to the Lord to know His mind and will.   I believe the Lord does not want us to make assumptions about what we "should" do.  He wants us to come to Him.  Christ himself didn't live up to others' expectations.  The whole Jewish nation believed the purpose of the Savior was to free them from Roman rule.  Christ "failed" at that, but it didn't matter.  He got his mission from his Father, not others' expectations.  He fulfilled His mission on earth perfectly.

Because of the restored gospel, we know these things.  We know we are beloved, unique, valuable children of God and He loves and knows us.  I am so grateful for Joseph Smith's reliance on the Lord's guidance and his sacrifices to fulfill his nature and destiny, despite the opinions of men.  I am grateful for modern prophets, for scriptures, for the gift of the Holy Ghost, for priesthood, and for my role as a daughter of God.  I am grateful to have a knowledge of these things.  In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Five Keys to Living Abundantly

I wrote this article for the Inspirational Women's Magazine.

Five Keys to Living Abundantly

by Julia Bernards

Many people don’t even consider the possibility of abundance.  The law of scarcity so permeates culture that what many hope for is to have “enough;” the luxury of abundance seems beyond reach.   And it isn’t just economic abundance that eludes us; it is an abundance of love, beauty, time, kindness, energy, etc.  We are indoctrinated with the idea that there is only so much of these to go around, and all we can hope for is enough to get by on.  But that isn’t true—abundance is all around us, and can be ever-present in our lives, if only we choose it.

Here is how:

1.  Have an Attitude of Abundance.  Wayne Dyer said: “abundance is not something we acquire. It is something we tune into.[i]”  Abundance is all around us, but we must “tune in.”  A Zulu proverb points out: “Abundance does not spread; famine does.”  In other words, abundance is already all around us—it is the reality.  But scarcity can spread by the mentality we choose.   With an attitude of abundance, we see truly and fully what we have.  We focus on what is rather than what is not.

2.  Anticipate Abundance.  “The world is full of abundance and opportunity,” said Ben Sweetland, “ but far too many people come to the fountain of life with . . . a teaspoon instead of a tankard. They expect little and as a result they get little.”  Having your heart and mind ready and open for abundance will invite it in.  Kathy Gates encouraged: “You can’t predict, you can prepare. Experience the power of making decisions based on security instead of worry, readiness instead of reluctance, abundance instead of lack.”  We can experience the power of abundance when we anticipate abundance.

3.  Appreciate Abundance.  Gratitude and abundance go hand in hand.  “Gratitude is the open door to abundance.” Epicurus said: “Not what we have but what we enjoy, constitutes our abundance.”  The more we appreciate what is all around us, the more abundantly we will live.  And with an appreciative heart, we invite more abundance.  “Whatever we are waiting for – peace of mind, contentment, grace, the inner awareness of simple abundance – it will surely come to us, but only when we are ready to receive it with an open and grateful heart, ” said Sarah Ban Breathnach.

4.  Apply Abundance.  When you are tuned in to the abundance in your life, you are happy to share it, and you rejoice in, rather than envy, others’ abundance.  Sharing willingly is a powerful deterrent to the mentality of scarcity.  As long as we have something to share, we have an abundance.  Applying abundance means putting the abundance in your life to use.  In the Bible we are taught[ii]: “Give and it will be given to you.  A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over.  . . For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”  When we use the measure of abundance in blessing others, we find that the abundance has only multiplied.  As Buddha said: “Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.”

5. Abide in Abundance.  Continuing in the attitude, anticipation, appreciation and application of abundance can be a challenge, especially as the mentality of scarcity rages like a disease around us.  Being constantly mindful of the thoughts you allow to permeate your life is necessary to abide in abundance.  Edith Armstrong said it well with this analogy: “I keep the telephone of my mind open to peace, harmony, health, love and abundance. Then whenever doubt, anxiety, or fear try to call me, they keep getting a busy signal and soon they’ll forget my number.”  When we actively focus our minds on abundance, those thought patterns will become part of us, and we will abide in abundance.

---

[i] I am grateful for so many quotes on abundance found on http://www.abundancetapestry.com/

[ii] Many words of wisdom regarding giving, sharing and generosity can be found at www.tentmaker.org

  

Consistent and Reliable

General Conference was wonderful, and I was grateful for the Spirit and the things I learned.

One of my important take-aways is that it is time for me to learn to be consistent and reliable.  Yikes.  Self-control and self-discipline are virtues I have never practiced enough to feel very good at.  The thought of being really consistent and reliable feels like having blinders put on, or being corralled into a very tight space. It isn't all that pleasant.  However, I believe that if I was to get myself to the point of being consistent and reliable, I would like and appreciate it.  

So right now, I am in the stage of "praying to want to," as my mom taught me to do.  She once drew me as a wild horse (and she was the harried handler); I still have something of the wild horse in me, I think.  Rules and schedules and consistency scare me sort of like eternity does--my mind does not yet fathom how it can all work.  Life is so capricious!  How can I be consistent in the face of the wild wind or surging sea?  It will take stronger stuff than that of which I am now made, I think.  Justification and rationalization have been more my style.

A while back, we visited the Oquirrh Mountain temple.  It is surrounded by a beautiful community called "Daybreak."  It is heavenly.  The roads radiate out from the temple like spokes of a wheel, the houses are all handsomely architected (with nary a street-facing garage among them), the lawns are perfect, the green spaces (along roads) are beautifully maintained and inviting, and there is a lake and there are play structures everywhere, all schools are within walking distance, there is the most amazingly beautiful spirit about the place and. . . wow.  It was so appealing I thought moving to Utah permanently might be a possibility.  

While we were there, I spoke with a woman at the lake and asked if she lived there.  She said she didn't, but  she brought her kids there from a ways away, because it was such a wonderful place to be.  She said they'd thought about buying a home there, but she figured there must be sooo many neighborhood ordinances that she just wouldn't be able to manage it.  I totally understood.  Keeping an immaculate yard and house are not something I really do.  Moving into a place that forced me to do it would be uncomfortable.  It made me think, though, that heaven must be the same way.  The more "ordinances" you are willing to keep, the nicer your heavenly neighborhood, because you live with people who also keep those ordinances.   The laws you are willing to abide by determines where you feel comfortable living, and what sort of a place that is.

With that thought, learning to be consistent and reliable seems even more important.  What will I miss out on in the next life if I don't learn to be consistent here?

Next, I need to figure out what is most important to me, so I can work on really being consistent and reliable in those things.  Sam gave me a worksheet for creating a personal constitution.  I think that would be a good start.  

I also, like I said, need help understand how.  Perhaps that will be clarified with the "what," but I don't know.  Anyway, that is where I am for now.

Pieces of Heaven

Our three months in Utah is drawing to a close, and I must say, it has been wonderful.  The neighborhood and ward have been wonderful.  Homeschooling is a delight.  The parks and libraries and museums and historical and church sites and mountains and so many things are just excellent.  Seeing family we haven't seen for quite a while and visiting friends, too, has been great.  This time has been very happy.

Yesterday, the kids were antsy and asking to go to the park.  I needed to finish up a few more things, and put them off for a while, but finally agreed that they could go if they all went together, and I would follow soon.  A few minutes later, when I walked down to the park, it was like walking into a beautiful,  heavenly dream.

To get to the park, we walk down into a gulley/valley, where all the colors are now turning with fall.  Then you cross a foot bridge over a creek and come out onto an emerald green lawn, dappled golden with falling leaves.  The autumn sun was warm and mellow, the smells of wood chips and sweet, old leaves was in the air, and there, across the lawn, were my four children happily playing, enjoying the day and the pleasures of childhood.

It was a moment I never want to forget.  There was such a feeling of contentment and joy; I just stood and savored it.  What a beautiful life I have.  What a gift to have these four wonderful children, and to be able to enjoy them every day.  What deliciousness of day, what loveliness of light was there to behold.  Entwining my life with my children's has been so sweet.  I feel like I get to enjoy childhood all over again, and become as a child.  I relish the opportunity.

Tomorrow, we will pack up and Thursday, if all goes well, we will start the journey home.  This has been an enchanted time, and I know that like all enchantments, this one must come to an end.  Still, it has been so pleasant that I can't help hoping for another sort of enchantment in the days ahead.  Winter is coming, and we will be back in Bentonville with it's attendant "real life."  Nevertheless, I hope for the magic of quiet winter days, snuggled cozy and content.  I hope for a continuation of the joy of homeschooling.  I hope for beauty and love and learning and laughter and life.

Lost in time and space

I went to my parent's house last weekend, without Sam or the kids, for Grandpa Charlie's 90th birthday. At my request, Mom, Sarah and I began to organize, scan and label photographs and slides.  There are thousands.  Dad was (and is) a prolific photographer.  And as I sat there, surrounded by the past, my mind became unstuck in time.  My perspective was no longer linear.  It was like being in an airplane and seeing a whole city laid out below, rather than driving a car down one street.  I saw back for a hundred years, through photographs.  I mistook my sister Sarah, with baby Charlie, for Dorothea, all grown up, with a baby of her own.  It was strange and normal, all at once.  It was beautiful.

One of the most touching parts about being unstuck in time was that I had Dad back for a while.  He was there in the photographs, but also present with me.  During Sacrament meeting on Sunday I sat next to him and rested my head on his shoulder, as I did innumerable times as a girl and young woman.  The feeling of the material of his suit against my cheek, the slant and slightness of his shoulder, and even his laying his head briefly against the top of mine all transcended a particular moment and brought me into contact with him as he was, again.  Monday morning, a lady from SaraCare came to pick Dad up, and as they backed out of the driveway I followed, waving and blowing kisses until he was out of sight, just as I did every time he drove away from home in my childhood.  It was another moment of connection, of transcending time, of perceiving outside of time.

Now I miss him.  I'm not sure I did fully, before.   College, marriage, and moving out of state, had distanced me from him enough that by the time Alzheimers started affecting cognitive changes, his presence wasn't really a pattern in my brain, any more.  But this weekend, that changed.  He came back to me.  And now there is a dull ache in my heart and an emptiness.

Yesterday, Sam and the kids and I had dinner with some of Sam's colleagues.  The husband shared something with us that he had learned from his father--speed ball boxing--before his father died.  It was impressive and thrilling to watch, and I could see his love for his father as he did it. (Watch the last 15 seconds).  I had spoken with him about Dad a little, and when I commented how wonderful it was that he had something from his Dad, and I wish I did, he said pointed out that I, too, could "put beautiful things on a table," as I'd told him Dad had.  I will.

What I want to have of Dad's:
Gentleness
Genuine interest in and love for people
A positive attitude
Patience
Testimony
Good habits of journaling and scripture reading
Revelation
Purity of Spirit

And here are some of Dad's pictures:

Homeschooling Resources

I keep thinking I've reached a point of logical ignorance on finding new homeschooling resources.  I can't find time to use most of the resources I have.  But, I did just find another excellent one.  I'm glad to know other moms are doing Montessori at home, and without buying all the expensive factory-made material.  This is excellent.  And so is this!

Structure and Flexibility

We have started homeschooling, and for the most part, it is going well.  I love the flexibility of homeschooling.  I love the lower-stress environment which I can create for the kids and myself.  I love being with the kids during the day and getting to be totally involved in their schooling and curriculum/subject choices.
On the other hand, the thought of managing to cover every point of information that they ought to learn, and doing so in a meaningful way, such that they actually learn and are able to use and apply it is overwhelming.  The thought of lesson plans makes me nervous.  It is not that I don't have faith that I can do it.  It is just that I don't have much faith that I will do it.  Some subjects are not a problem that way.  Musical instruments are great, because I can help the kids practice at a moments' notice.  They have a work book for vocab and spelling that I really like.  Latin is fun.  History is all set.  PE is no problem.  Math is a breeze.  Art is a go.  Logic workbooks are at the ready. So what is stressing me out?  Language Art (which seems so ironic, because that is what I love best!) and Foreign language (is Latin right for the girls?  What about Spanish?) and assessments, writing assignments, etc.

Hmm, so apparently what is most stressing me out is the subjects in which I feel I have the most to offer. Interesting.  Is it because I can't bear to just get some curriculum and use it--I feel like I have to produce it myself?  Or is it because my expectations for the kids on that front are so high?  Whatever it is, this feeling of worry that the kids won't get everything they could or should get has been weighing on me.  Other home school moms would tell me not to worry, I know.  I have been trying to face it an deal with it.  So far, that has led to several things:
1. Looking at enrolling the kids in an online "virtual academy." http://www.k12.com/arva (and going so far as to start the application process)
2. Researching what makes teaching / learning effective.
3. Questioning why I am doing home school.
4. Recognizing that I need to step it up.  Yikes. This gets us to the topic of flexibility/structure.

How do you do that?  Be both flexible and structured, I mean?  In my former life (pre-kids) I was great at structure.  I thrived on structure.  I embraced it.  I think I still do/would.  Except that having kids taught me (read forced me) to be flexible.  That is a good thing, though.  I am grateful for the ability to be more flexible.  It is a good life skill.  However, somehow, somewhere along the way, flexible turned into something more like chaotic.  Or just, unstructured?

I am overstating things, actually.  Our family is not chaotic.  We definitely have some structure.  People are not constantly confused about what is going on.  We have breakfast, lunch and dinner.  We have morning and evening prayers, and family scripture study every day.  Dad goes to work, mom stays home.  We clean up the dishes after we use them.  We go to bed at consistent times (or the kids do, at least.) On Saturdays we clean the house and the kids take baths and we do something fun as a family.  On Sundays we go to church (we are even getting better at being on time) and engage in quiet family activities, including Family Home Evening part A.  Monday nights is Family Home Evening part B.  We do all those things quite consistently, except for when we don't.  The "don't" is the exception rather than the rule, but it exists nonetheless.

But even for all that, there is a lot of unstructured time.  Homeschooling is part of that time.  I have attempted to structure the homeschooling time.  I have a great excel spreadsheet print out that we refer to constantly from 8am to 2pm. It is currently under renovation, though.

So, now we come to the real issue: me.  The kids are always up by 7am, and ready for breakfast, family scripture study, and heading out for a walk.  I, however, am not.  This morning I got out of bed at 9am.  (Granted, that is very rare--it is usually more like 7am for me, too.)  And the reason for that anomaly is that I stayed up far, far too late for two nights in a row, worrying about home school stuff.  Ironic.  Anyway, this all has led to my understanding that in order for all this to work satisfactorily, I need to step it up.  That means I need to have more self-control (and head to bed by 9pm instead of 11:30) and be more accountable.  I need to live a higher law. I need to do things that make me nervous (like lesson plans.)

This is all very good for me.  Having to keep myself to a schedule and be disciplined without some outside influence bearing down on me requires a whole new level of growth.  I'm not good at it.  And you throw the necessity of flexibility in there, too, and WHEW, this is uncomfortable.  I believe I can do it, though.  I think I can, I think I can.  Getting to do home school inspires me to step it up, so I can make it work.  I want it to work.  I'm loving it, generally.  Whew.

So, it has been good to write.  Here is what I just learned:
1. I am most stressed by the subjects I love most.
2. I'm not doing too badly.  I haven't failed.  There is structure in place, and light ahead
3. I'll keep working on this, engage the children in the process, and enjoy the journey.

The kids are watching Planet Earth right now.  There are so many resources readily available for an excellent education.  I can do this!

Centered

Here
I am
sitting still,
while all the time
swinging sattelites
in an intricate dance
around and around
kids are laughing
Sam joins in
I am
here.


What makes being a mother the most important work in the world?
My work is to improve myself--not numbers, outputs, or processes.  The very measure of my success is in the changing of myself from disorder to order, from dark to light, from ignorance to knowledge, from pride to gentle kindness.  I must do this, so that the generations that follow will also be improved.  Each mother is a step forward (or back) for the next generation.  My work is the work of eternity.

I Thank God for My Handicaps

"I thank God for my handicaps for, through them, I have found myself, my work, and my God."

--Helen Keller

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."

--Albert Einstein

Best wishes for Mother's Day!

Ah, Mother's Day--day of expectations and memories.  I sort of wish we could do away with it, but that is probably just selfish.  It makes me uncomfortable for my praises to be sung at any time and in any way.  Having them sung simply because I am a woman and mother (so generic!) means I have no qualms about simply wanting to hide.  Do I have to be gracious about generic praise?  I think not.

Phrases that are particular pet peeves:  (to me) "You should get a break--it is mother's day!"  (to the kids) "You should make it special--it is mother's day,"  (to men) "Show your love and appreciation--it is mother's day."   Shouldn't we help, love and appreciate mothers every day?  Shouldn't moms feel okay about taking a break any day and every day?  It is like the existence of Mother's Day gives people leave to recognize women just once a year.  I'm afraid I'm being cynical.  My family doesn't only love and appreciate me on Mother's Day.  They are reasonably great all year.  I am quite satisfied.  So why have Mother's Day at all?

Two moments to share:

The primary sang in Sacrament meeting today.  My kids pushed their way to the front and were very cute as they hugged and poked each other and waved at me.  They were happy with their singing.  When they sat back down, Ethan asked me "Mom, did you cry when we sang to you?"  "No," I replied.  "Should I have?"  "Well," he responded, "the music director said we should sing loudly to make the moms cry.  I guess I'll just have to kick you in the shins, instead."  I laughed out loud at his idea, but was also annoyed by the expectations people set up for mother's day.  Why do I have to cry?  I had just lost my temper with my kids 20 minutes before, as I tried to get them all out of the baths and into the car so we would be on time for church.  (We weren't.)  I wasn't feeling great poignancy or tenderness.  I was still a little stressed and annoyed.

In our ward on Mother's Day, the men take over all the women's responsibilities for the third hour of church so the women can go to Relief Society where a special "Mother/Woman Appreciation" lesson is taught and some special dessert is handed around.  Today, I didn't want to go to Relief Society.  I didn't want to hear another lesson with generic praise and words of affirmation and encouragement.  I wanted to sit quietly, all by myself, and pray or contemplate or just be.  Either that, or run home and clean the kitchen which had been left an absolute disaster by the kid's efforts to create a "special" mother's day.    Upon being pushed out the door of nursery, I did dutifully make my way to the Relief Society meeting, but I just couldn't bear to stay after the song (a sappy sentimental one sung by two young women).  I resorted to the Mother's lounge, hoping it would be empty.  It wasn't, but I didn't worry too much about what my friend Charity (who was there) would think when I just plunked myself down and closed my eyes and cried.  It was good to be still.  It was good to cry.   

I miss my dad.  He has been slipping away for years, now, slowly covered by layer after layer of the shadow of Alzheimers.  My dad is a vital force in my life.  I frequently reflect on the fact that he is largely responsible for my foundation of self-confidence, my love of beautiful things, my belief that being deeply spiritual and highly intellectual can co-exist in the same person harmoniously, and that kindness and gentleness is the best policy.

My dad's being is vibrant and clear.  He is truly a great man.  Educated at Yale, Union Theological Seminary and Stanford, he pursued a life goal of bringing education to the masses--making it available for anyone at any stage of life.  He was researching distance education decades before the internet existed, and now, as I see his dream being realized through organizations like KhanAcademy.org (where my homeschooling son learns math) and Western Governor's University (where my sister assists students around the country in accomplishing their coursework and earning a degree), I wish he was here to see it, too.  I wish he could rejoice in the advancements of the field he championed, and talk with me about what is best in class.

Dad found so many things to be excited about and grateful for.  A smile was his signature expression.  He would frequently give a whoop and punch the air to express his joy in seeing one of us kids, or celebrate a success we shared with him. His exuberance sometimes embarrassed me as a child--surely adults should be more staid--but I loved it, too.  His excitement about life, about people, and about me, was a great window with which to see the world.  Dad was amazing, and if he thought I was amazing, too, then it must be so.  Dad was free with his praise, and loved to point out the positive about everything and everyone around him.  He was a Dale Carnegie man, and lived the principles faultlessly.

John Olin Campbell III ~1955

JOC III _1965

Olin Campbell family ~ 1990

Dad loved finding the intersection of truth and beauty.  He often took us camping and hiking, and would point out the delicate details around us.  Photography was his art form and his eye captured beauty all around, whether it was a laughing child, an awe-inspiring landscape, a gathering of friends, or a trick of light.  Dad sought to embrace and make permanent that resplendence.

He collected beautiful objects, too.  His collection sat for years atop a low filing cabinet in his study--an archive of his admiration.  I remember particular pieces of the collection: an open geode, a ceramic sphere, hollow and glazed so it resembled a planet.  There was a chime, which lay horizontal, suspended by wires.  It's beauty was in the piercingly sweet sound it made and sustained when struck.  He had blown glass pieces and a birds nest created in reverse in a piece of clear acrylic.  There was a beautiful white stone bowl, which sang when struck and rubbed with a rubber ball.  Among the collection were items we children had contributed, too, as our own sense of beauty grew.  It was always an honor to have a gift placed among Dad's treasured things.

Olin and Janet Campbell ~ 2003

Olin with grandchildren ~2007

Processing a weekend

Sam and I flew to San Francisco over the weekend, and had a unique experience.  It was unique for me on a number of levels, and I am still processing it.

First, I think it was the first time Sam and I have left all the kids.  I put a lot of coordination work into that, though, and felt very calm about the plan, and frequently reassured by the Lord that all would be well.  It was very nice to be able to rely on good friends and family, and not worry.

Second, it was the first time I've visited Sam's grandparents' home in Alameda, CA.  His grandfather, David Bernards, died a couple of weeks ago, so I was very grateful for the chance to visit with his (step) grandmother.  Because of a rift between Sam's dad and grandpa, and Sam's grandpa and great-grandparents, the Bernards kids have missed out on a lot of the strength they could have had from a sense of family history, I think.  Helen received us warmly, made us lunch, and showed us album after album of family pictures.  They were wonderful.  I want very much to be able to scan them all, but Sam did the next best thing in taking pictures of the pictures.  Maybe someday we will get to scan them. . .

That was a really good visit for me.  I loved getting to be with Helen, I loved seeing the pictures, and I loved getting to know this family that I married into and whose name I and my children carry.  Yes, it is family full of pain in many ways.  But it is good to know them nonetheless.  There was a picture of grandpa Bernards with his brother and cousin when they were 6-8 years old, eating watermelon, with a back ground of cars from the 1920s.  It is a great picture, and I discovered that grandpa had painted a picture from it, too, so it must have been special to him.  There were several pictures of grandpa with his siblings, who are all members of the church and live in Utah, and I thought it was sad that Sam had never met them and didn't know who they were.  We found a picture of Sam's great-grandparent's graves in Salt Lake, too, as well as a plot map which shows where in the cemetery they are buried.  I challenged Sam to go and find his great-grandparents' graves while he was in Salt Lake (he is there now.)  The time went by too quickly, and we had to leave grandma Helen before she or I was ready, I felt.

Our next stop was the Oakland temple.  I'd never been there before, and it is where my parents were sealed, so I felt a special connection to it.  As we drove through San Fran and Oakland, I kept expressing my feeling to Sam: "this place is toast!"  It was the expression of a feeling that I can't describe about the place--tenuous, perhaps?  I felt like the moral foundations of the area were as weak as the geographical foundations, and the whole place was nearly due to fall into the ocean.  It wasn't pleasant, and Sam laughed at me and told me I was being a bit judgmental.  I didn't mean to be--I wasn't making any comments on anyone in particular, as I didn't know anyone there, but grandma Helen, and I love her.  But the whole place felt unsustainable, nonetheless.

Sam and I enjoyed our time in the temple.  We did sealings, and I thought of my parents (and should have thought of Anna, as she pointed out to me later, because she was sealed to mom and dad there, too.)  The temple is perched at the edge of a cliff, overlooking Oakland and San Francisco.  It was weird to stand there at the edge of that cliff and contemplate what it might be like if everything below were to disappear. . . The temple itself was a little unlike other temples I'd been in, too.  It was darker, being decorated with wood  paneling instead of mirrors and white marble.  It was wonderful to hear the familiar words of the ordinances, nonetheless, and rejoice in that place of holiness.

After the temple, we drove north on Hwy 1 to Bolinas, CA., a little beach town nestled between the Golden Gate recreational area and National Park reserve.  It was an interesting place, belonging, it felt, to the generation of yuppies who descended from hippies and inherited both their "live and let live" attitudes, and the affluence of Silicon Valley.  I'm sure there are other types that inhabit Bolinas, but that is the sort I was able to interact with.  One afternoon I stopped at a yard sale on my way to the beach and wandered in, looking for a hostess gift.  "Everything is very cheap," I was reassured.  "Just ask for the prices, you'll see."  There were pretty things, and when my eye fell on a pair of glass beaded necklaces I thought my girls might like, I inquired.  "Oh, I'll let those go for only $20 a piece," responded the middle-aged woman, draped in shawls.  "They are old crystal."  My eyebrow might have raised imperceptibly, but I simply indicated that perhaps they were not suitable gifts, then, for very young girls.  I did find hostess gifts there, and hope they were received well.

When we arrived at the home of the hosts, we were greeted warmly, both by a smiling, friendly Andy Ruben (wearing a square chalkboard name plate around his neck) and the sumptuous smells of spices and organic, vegan cooking at its best (compliments of Babs and Francine, the chefs of the weekend.)  The "Farmhouse"--the weekend home of Adam and Lynne, the hosts--was a spacious, restored wood building, full of vintage charm and modern comforts. We gathered slowly around the dining table, which could seat 20 with relative ease, and snacked on a variety of cheeses and the most splendid olives I've ever tasted.  (I forgot to ask about those.)  They were cured with something much milder than any olive I've had before, and tasted  faintly sweet with a hint of orange and EVOO.  I ate one after another.

Most of the gang assembled there for the weekend went out on a walk up the hill, where there was a view of the bay, and had a "get to know you" moment.  I worked on my article for Inspirational Women's Magazine, which was already late at that point.  Being exhausted, I didn't get much done before everyone came back for dinner and meetings.

I didn't want to intrude on the meeting,  uninvited as I was, but the topic was interesting to me, and little by little I progressed into the room, sat on the periphery, started taking notes, and finally broke in with questions and comments of my own.  It was an interesting meeting--no agenda, no answers, just a free-flowing discussion.  It was rather frustrating to me.  I prefer a little more structure and concreteness, perhaps.  I ended up making more comments than Sam, though his were certainly approved more, and even applauded (no one else at all was applauded.  Go Sam!)  By midnight (2am, our time) my eyes were closing despite myself, and they called a recess of the meeting wherein Sam took me to bed.

The next morning I was still exhausted, having slept little and dreamed heavily of the ideas we'd been batting around.  After a late breakfast, there was a little recap and then we broke into groups to continue the discussion.  I inserted myself into a group, but the morning meeting was even more frustratingly unguided and ambiguous, and my desire to participate waned to nothing.  After lunch I headed back to our place and tried for a nap, but ended up talking a little tour of the community, reading for a while on the beach, and stopping by a yard sale where I found some beautiful items which I bought as hostess gifts (which I'd tasked Sam with weeks earlier, and he had not deemed necessary.)  At about 5pm I finally fell asleep, missing dinner, the big party with the investors and everything.  But wow, it felt good to sleep!

My birthday passed with blissfully little remembrance that it was that day at all.  Sam said Happy Birthday, but he was the only person I saw all day who knew.

Okay, I'm done with the blow-by-blow that is excruciatingly boring.  In the morning, we said goodbye and left, hit a sacrament meeting on our way to the airport, and then parted ways, Sam for Utah, me for home.  By chance, I sat by a fellow I'd also sat by on the ride out, and we and our row-mate had great conversations both times.  It was such good conversation, in fact, that we traded contact information.  Cool.

I didn't reach home until 2:30am that morning, blurry and wondering what that weekend was all about.  (At last, time to process!)  It was an experience, to be sure, but one which my head had a hard time wrapping around.  Was it fun?  Was it nice to get away?  Was it great to be with Sam?  I'm not sure.

Perhaps it was "important" rather than fun.  It was important to me to get to be with Grandma Helen.  It was important to me to discover that I am (probably unduly) still confident in intellectual/
collaborative settings.  That may have been some of the first "professional" style conversation I've had in a decade, but I felt like I understood enough to contribute, and that my life experience of the last 10 years was worth while.  I felt quite grounded in that setting--I know who I am and what I know and other's opinions of me are not a big deal.  It didn't really phase me that the people assembled were experts in their fields, and some were nationally known, etc. They were just people, to me.  I felt comfortable sitting quietly on the outside and I felt comfortable coming forward and joining into conversations.  There was no feeling of being intimidated or unworthy.  Perhaps that is more of a testament to their graciousness than anything else.  I don't know.  I was glad to be me, in that setting, though, and didn't envy anyone their life, professional or personal.

I'm not sure it was "nice" to get away.  I was exhausted to the point of brain-deadness a lot of the time, and the feeling of San Francisco was not a "nice" one.  I much prefer our own little town of Bentonville.  I felt very calm about being away, and I certainly wouldn't have had the experiences I did without getting away, but still, I'd say I prefer home to "away."

I felt like I actually spent remarkably little time with Sam.  At the "share-a-thon" meetings, we really split up for the most part.  We didn't sit together or talk together.  We got to know different people.  We didn't keep the same schedule.  We didn't eat together.  In fact, as we were leaving on Sunday morning, Babs and Francine (who could see everyone from the kitchen the whole time) exclaimed in surprise that we were a couple.  I don't feel bad about it being that way.  Sam commented that he liked that we both felt comfortable apart, and it was great for networking for each of us to "work" different parts of the group.  I'm pretty sure I wasn't "working" anything, but I did feel confident as a stand alone person, and didn't need to tag along with Sam.  In the moments we were together, it was nice to discuss what was going on, and what we thought of it.  It was nice to share the experience, certainly.

So, there was the weekend.  It was interesting, and I don't know how else to describe it.  I wish I had something more to say to my dear friends who sacrificed to take the kids so I could have a wonderful time.  It was a birthday treat to me, from so many people.

I guess more than anything else, it felt like the weekend tested my metal.  I've felt "[hidden] in the shadow of His hand" (Isaiah 49:2) for a long time, being at home, with the kids, in a very nurturing environment.  And yet, I feel like the Lord has made me "a polished shaft," somehow, rather than a soft weakling.  And when I went out into the world--I think San Fran qualifies as the world as much as anywhere--I felt strong and straight (heh heh) and grounded and confident.  It felt good to be me.  And that is a great birthday treat.

Bentonville part.1 June 2006- June 2009

I have loved Bentonville.  Just thinking about its streets and trails, trees and streams, businesses and people makes me smile.  Bentonville has been a place of nurturing for me, in a time when I needed a lot of nurturing.  It was the setting for some of the hardest, most harrowing challenges of my life, and lent its light to times of darkness.

Bentonville brought many people into my life from whom I learned invaluable lessons and by whom I felt myself tested.  Friends were immediate—within the first day of being in Bentonville we’d been invited to dinner and to drop off our kids while signing on our new house.  We accepted both offers, and found friends forthcoming.  I loved having an immediate support network, having other women to guide me through mothering challenges, laugh with me over frustrations, and cry with me during low times. 

One of the first major challenges I faced in Bentonville came as I tried to reach out to a friend.  She was a single mom with three young children, struggling to juggle a job and child care in a new city and suffering the consequences of poor decisions she had made earlier in her life.  Her life was hard, and she lamented being stuck in what she perceived as an untenable situation.  I volunteered care for her son while she was working, took her grocery shopping, and invited her family for dinners, activities, and events with my family.  We established a friendship, and her children really enjoyed being in our home.  She talked about her aspirations in life—renewing her membership in the church, finishing her education, and getting a permanent job.  I wanted so much to help her. 

After about a year of knowing her and her family and watching them struggle, Sam and I prayed and decided to invite them to come and live with us for a while, until she could secure a permanent job and get some more education.  I was excited to have her and the kids be with us—excited to provide a comfortable, loving, stable home, excited to have a friend on hand, excited for the opportunities that would now be open to her, and excited to see her reach her goals.  I felt happy, also, in the service I felt we were providing and in the sacrifice inherent to that service.  It felt good to give of myself to help another and share what we had.  My friend and her kids were excited, too, and grateful.  We talked together and decided how she and her kids could continue to contribute to the household, what the living arrangements would be, and so forth.  It looked like everything would work out beautifully.

Once the family had moved in, I began to learn important lessons.  My friend was not as dedicated to her dreams as I’d understood.  She continued to make self-defeating choices, which was frustrating to watch.  Instead of working hard in her temp job and earning a place of permanent employment, she would frequently fail to go to work at all.  She also found it inconvenient to make the effort to go to church, and did not do so.  She was doubtless struggling with depression and physical illness (she was very overweight) which made those things difficult.  I had understood that she was dedicated to making progress, though, and either she simply was not or she yet lacked the resources/knowledge of how to do so.  I offered emotional support, physical support and financial support as best as I knew how, but I felt like instead of making progress, my friend was growing more and more apathetic, and (to my surprise and sadness) stopped expressing gratitude and instead resented that I wasn’t doing more.  If I had known then what I know now, I may have suspected depression was debilitating her, and suggested a counselor and medication.  I did know signs and symptoms of depression from college, and I guess what she was doing didn’t bring any of those to mind.  My memory is faded now. Whatever the issue was, she needed more than I could to give.

 As the months passed, my disquiet grew.  I began to see that instead of doing my friend a favor, perhaps I had handicapped her further.  Instead of using our home as a stepping stone for progress, she was using it as a resort from her problems.  Our bishop expressed sadness that we had not counseled with him first, telling me that what I had done was like breaking the egg for the chick and removing the shell.  People, like chicks, need to be required to put forth the effort to get themselves out of their difficult situation, or they will not gain the strength of character necessary to thrive.  At home, tensions were escalating.  My home no longer felt like a comfortable, safe place.  There was anger, frustration, and resentment towards me and my family, and disappointment, sadness, and self-reproach on my part. We started to look for other options for her family, though my friend felt she would never make it if we “turned them out.”  We kept looking, though, and arrangements were finally made.  About 4 months after my friend and her family had come, a week before they could get into another place, things came to a head.  The spirit in the home turned so acid one afternoon that I could no longer deal with it.  We rented them a hotel room for the week and helped them into their own space. 

It was a sad, sad, end for me.  The hopes that I had entertained, of helping my friend, ended in fear that I had severely hindered her progress instead.  My sadness and self-reproach was very poignant.  Now, four years later, I don’t know how she is doing or if she ever got herself on her feet.  Just this week, we parked next to a car wherein sat a very overweight woman and two large-sized daughters, and Ethan whispered “Mom, isn’t that the family who lived with us?”  It wasn’t, but it was interesting to me that he remembered them still.  I wonder what else of that time my children remember. . .

During that difficult time, I was buoyed up by a wonderful Relief Society President—Anne Arrington—and supportive friends.  Bentonville’s trails and scenery offered a welcome reprieve, and I enjoyed volunteering at Ethan’s school, often with Carol and Dorothea in tow.

Another challenge came as I pondered my identity and value, which I had long ignored as I was caring for small children.  By the time Dorothea was two, I started feeling human again, and my new-found energy led me to mourn the degree to which my talents, passions, and intellectual pursuits had fallen by the wayside.  I cried in my closet one afternoon, and opened my eyes to realize I was surrounded by momentos of my history.  I looked through old school papers (what a lot I had learned in college!) and impressive grades.  I looked through scholarships I’d applied for and won, I looked through pictures of places I’d been and people I’d served, and I read poetry, essays and vignettes I’d written long ago.  There was proof that (once) I was a worthwhile, impressive person.  What had happened?  What was I now?  My talents had mouldered on a back shelf for so long, they no longer seemed important.  Still, I wanted to resurrect them, and with them a sense of my own worth. 

So, I decided to set goals and get to work on them.  I updated my writing resume and my dance resume and started making calls.  It was my intention to have an opportunity to write for a newspaper and to teach dance.  At that time, nothing really came about.  I needed more certification for most dance studios, and never put a lot of time into applying for a writing job.  Time passed, though, and the following year, the director of one of the dance studios (the best ballet school in Bentonville, which actually took dance seriously and put on a Nutcracker and sent students to New York every year) called and asked if I would like to teach.  I jumped at the chance, and for a year I got to teach beginning ballet at Classical Ballet Academy.  It was wonderful.

The achievement of my other goal happened through church, surprisingly enough.  I was called as the Stake Public Affairs Media Representative, and as such wrote press releases and articles for the local papers about Stake events, missionary service, etc.  Later, I served as the Public Affairs Director and continued writing and interacting with the Media.

The Lord’s orchestration of things so that my goals could be fulfilled was a beautiful testimony to me that He knows the thoughts and desires of my heart and answers my prayers.  Being in Bentonville was instrumental in making those goals a reality, too, I believe, because it is small enough that you don’t have to be the best writer or dancer in the country to get to do what you love.

The spring after my friend and her children left our home, I (finally) got pregnant.  It took longer to get pregnant this time, which was surprising for us.  Nevertheless, we happily shared the news with everyone.  During that time, for one reason or another, I decided that I was doing pretty well in terms of life-progress, and that I could kick back for a while.  I think I remember even informing Heavenly Father that I was quite content with my current state of being and I no longer considered it necessary to progress, or something like that.  I don’t remember what made me so confident, but it was certainly vain.  The Lord had other ideas for me, and as soon as I made that declaration, I lost the spirit.  I went on for a month of feeling rather lukewarm and grey, until I finally humbled myself and apologized to the Lord.  “I do need Your spirit and I do need to keep progressing,” I acknowledged.  The spirit returned, and the very next day I had an experience that brought progress: I miscarried.   I started bleeding and it got heavier and then terrible, flesh-ripping cramps tortured me most of the night.  In the morning I went into the OB, and he confirmed that I’d miscarried.  He was very gentle and removed the aborted tissue, which, luckily, had all been expelled, so no D&C was needed.  I wanted to have what had been the beginnings of a baby, to take home and bury it, but I wasn’t allowed to.  My frustration with legislation regarding human tissue was piqued (especially when I later got a bill from a lab company who had gotten my tissue.)

I was weak physically and emotionally for the next few days, but my spirit was strengthened by the Lord.  I wrote the following to some of my close friends:

Ah my wonderful friends, whose lives entwine about mine and shape and strengthen and enliven me!  You all have been with me since pregnancy #1.  What a lucky woman I am.  News on the pregnancy/Easter:

After some bleeding on Easter, and a very painful night on Sunday, I miscarried.  I was ending the first trimester, which, I understand, is a fairly normal time for a miscarriage.  We are doing just fine--I feel very blessed/protected in this whole experience, and that the tender mercies of the Lord have been extended to me on every level.  Sam has been taking care of me, and the process didn't require much medical intervention--I saw a doctor Monday morning who gently removed the remaining tissue and said that everything had passed naturally and I could go home.  And here I am surrounded by happy, beautiful children who are full of love and give me so much to be grateful for.  I felt protected emotionally, because my feelings about this pregnancy had been very sober--there hadn't been the usual sense of anticipation. I also felt prepared mentally, because I expected that, as common as it is, miscarriage would be a part of my childbearing years.  My body feels tender and in need of healing, but my heart feels tender, too, and full of peace.  Perhaps having it happen on Easter was another tender mercy--the symbol of the empty tomb brings peace for an empty womb, for I know that pain, death, and all our physical frailties and imperfections will pass away, and through Christ's sacrifice and resurrection, we will be able to transcend this mortal sphere and be renewed and live again in a glorious and eternal sphere.  I am so grateful for that promise.  

So, it was a very meaningful Easter.  When I started bleeding in the morning I called the doctor and he said some bleeding was normal, and that staying in bed wouldn't affect things, so I got to spend a wonderful day at church, doing an Easter Symbols egg hunt with the kids, watching Finding Faith in Christ, making and braiding Easter bread, and then giving it to a bunch of our neighbors along with the Finding Faith in Christ DVD.  We were even invited to have dinner with friends, which was fun.  It was a very satisfying Easter, and I felt very grateful to have been so fed by the Spirit before the difficult part began, which wasn't until we were getting into bed.  As I said, the tender mercies of the Lord were on every side.  

I love you and am so happy to continue being involved in your lives, even from a distance.  What a joy it is to watch as our lives progress--with up and down times, but with faith and hope and love.  We are hoping again for #4, in the Lord's time.  

LOVE!