"The objective for the USA is strength not popularity."

Okay, it's no secret that I am sad that Mitt Romney is not the President of the United States.  I mean, he's so talented and intelligent and he could have been working for us.  I was giddy at the thought, until election night when I became very ungiddy.  In my efforts to process my disappointment I started listening to his book, "No Apology."  I guess I felt that since he wasn't going to be in charge, I needed to learn all I could from him, because I kind of feel we're on our own.  Anyway, he is brilliant, and I am learning much.  His writings have also helped me acquire clarity on my view of war and the military.  I'm kind of squeamish when it comes to conflict and death.  My military son and I have a deal.  He doesn't tell me what I don't want to hear.  As a mother I follow my natural instincts which are protection of the species, particularly my members of the species.  I mean, can't we all just get along?  "Swords into plowshares" etc.  My goal is still world peace, but I realize that freedom is worth fighting for.  As a country we need to be prepared to defend our freedom from those would take it from us.  And we can't be naive in thinking there aren't those people in the world.

I love the movie, "Sound of Music" mostly because I want my life to be like Maria's.  I want to teach my children to sing in the alps and harmonize in the carriage and bring peace and love into the home with songs that solve every problem.  I didn't really like the Nazi theme.  It was such a downer to the singing and dancing and love story.  On reflection I realize that I can be a bit like the character, Uncle Max, at times.  Louisa: "Is Father going to be in trouble?"  Max: "He doesn't have to be.  The thing to do these days is to get along with everyone."   Max: "What's going to happen if going to happen.  Just make sure it doesn't happen to you."  George: "Don't ever say that again!"  Max: "I have no political convictions.  Can I help it if other people do?"  George: "Oh yes you can help it.  You must help it." I now appreciate George and his convictions even if he is a little cranky.

Mitt Romney said, "The objective for the USA is strength, not popularity."  I'm inspired by Governor Romney and other's willingness to sacrifice for our country.  He really had nothing to gain from running for president.  I believe he did it because of love of freedom and country.  "Who more than self their country loved and mercy more than life."  I now ask myself, what can I give my country?  I give, but for the most part it's in ways that are comfortable to me.  I want to prepare myself to give in ways that may not be comfortable.  To openly stand for the values I hold dear when I may face not just unpopularity, but persecution.

The movie Lion King is symbolic of  many beautiful truths and more than one speaker has referred to the message, "Remember who you are."  Upon my last listening (Gabe was watching it in the back seat during a short road trip) I was struck with the conversation between Pumba and the just rescued young Simba.  Pumba said, "When the world turns it's back on you, you turn your back on the world."  Simba mumbles, "That's not what I was taught."  They continue to train him in "Hakuna Matata" until he has rendered himself useless.  "Hakuna Matata" is a very tempting idea.  We are lured into a state of a constant search for entertainment and disdain for hard work, until we are weak and unmotivated and serving mostly ourselves.  This is the opposite of patriotism and love of God and man.  We need to leave people and places better than we found them and then in turn, we will leave a better person because of our service.

Another idea that I have always believed but feel called to act upon is that there is truth and right and falsehoods and wrong and we need to know the difference and be willing to stand for it and talk about it.  Some issues are moral and eternal and seem easy to discern.  Others are temporal and circumstantial and the solutions can be complicated.  Either way, we need to research, ponder and choose.  We may make mistakes, but we can't let the mistake be failure to take a stand and act.  In our community at present there is a school budget problem.  It needs to be balanced and there is disagreement as to the best way to achieve this.  Obviously, no one wants to give up their schools, conveniences, programs, etc.  It looks messy and I was thinking,  "I'm glad I don't have to make this decision."  I now believe that as citizens we need to think like leaders and listen and consider the ramifications and get involved in the discussion in hopes that more perspectives and ideas can bring better solutions.  I want to not only not be part of the problem.  I want to be part of the solution and look beyond my little world  into my neighborhood, city, state and nation and past this second into tomorrow, next year, next decade and eternity.

Thank you Mitt and Ann Romney for inspiring me to give more to the future of America and the values I hold dear.  And thank you to the veterans and all serving in the military for sacrificing your life to defend my freedom.

We belong together

Primary program Sunday, when the children ages 3-11 present their yearly theme through word and song, is traditionally one of the post powerful church meetings of the year.  There are always the adorable waves to mommy,  the stage frightened child staring wide-eyed into the congregation never even moving their lips, the future performer singing loudly above all the other voices, the awkward almost 12 year old towering above the other children wishing they did not have to sing with the babies, and the sweet 3 year olds that can't do anything that isn't adorable.

When I was serving in the Primary, these programs were always accompanied by stressful moments that are only funny now that they're long past.  When I was chorister we finished a song and I took my seat only to notice that I had left the children still standing.  When I was the president I would be holdin' in a hissy fit if a child didn't show up or there was a mistake or delay. One year we had an "active" little girl in our Primary. (read behavior issues.)  It was all she could do to stay her in her seat on the stand.  At one point I saw her lying on her tummy on the floor.  She was staying still and was hidden behind the balustrade so I decided to not intervene.  Upon closer observance I realized she was entertaining herself by letting spit drop out of her mouth and slurping it up again before it hit the carpet. She continued with this game until she let it slip too far.  Her saliva hit the carpet.  She quickly wiped it with her hand and looked up guiltily to see if anyone had seen what happened.  The humor of the whole situation hit me and I couldn't suppress my laughter.  I looked quickly at the congregation to see if any of them suspected the hidden shenanigans.    Now that I watch the program as an observer only, I realize how little it matters if everything's perfect.  The program's great because they're children and they're singing and speaking about the Savior and His gospel and that's always a winning combination.

Every year there are always one or two moments that make me cry, and this year was no exception.  The Primary President had asked all the families with children who had been baptized in 2012 to come to the front with their families to sing "When I am baptized"

I like to look for rainbows whenever there is rain 

And ponder on the beauty of an earth made clean again

I want my life to be as clean as earth right after rain.

I want to be the best I can and live with God again.

I know when I am baptized, my wrongs are washed away

And I can be forgiven and improve myself each day.

I want my life to be as clean as earth right after rain.

I want to be the best I can and live with God again.

All those beautiful eternal families singing of the beauty of  the atonement and baptism and repentance just melted my heart.  When I didn't think it could get any better, this little 3 year old came marching by.  For some reason she wasn't singing with her family.  I don't know if she was in the bathroom when they were called up, or if she was sitting with Grandma because she was too little, but no matter.  She stepped right up to where she belonged, in the center of her family and sang her heart out.  I was struck with the power of this principle.  I want to step up to where I belong and make my eternal family the center of my life.

When my youngest child was born with  facial anomalies,  I remember having the thought that he needed a priesthood blessing. Within a few moments the nurse announced that there were people at the hospital to see us.  I don't believe we had called anyone at that time, but the Stake President and his wife and the Bishop (who was out on a birthday date) came separately to the hospital arriving at the same time.  They were able to give Gabe a beautiful blessing that even made the nurse cry.  Then the Stake President's wife turned to me and said, "I have a strong feeling that this baby is very happy to be joining your family."  When she said this I knew it was true.  I now have a picture in my mind of each child stepping up to take their place in the family and this final little guy marching in, right where he belonged.  

Belonging to a family is a wondrous blessing, but takes a lot of work.  Sometimes we make choices that make our family feel that they would rather not belong to us, but the "crowning characteristic of love is loyalty." (Jeffrey R, Holland) and luckily, families are forever so we can repent and repent and repent and forgive and forgive and forgive because we belong together.

Good judgement comes from experience and a lot of that comes from bad judgement.

I was remembering an experience one of my children had in high school.  He was new to the cross country team, and they had a practice route that included a modern style house with a roof that was rather irresistible   By "included" I don't mean running by the house.  They ran over the house.  I don't know if it was all of them, or if it was every time, but Brandon chose to take the challenge and became one of the over-the-top runners. He jumped onto the low ran over the high and then off of the other low.The great part about the story is that when he returned with his team to the school, the coach and principal were there waiting for them.  The owner had called.  He happened to be home that day and wanted the little tradition put to a stop.  So for the first time in the history of running the roof, they got in trouble. And Brandon was lucky enough to be 1 for 1...one taking the chance-one getting caught.  We talked a lot about accountability and choices, and how the story was rather amusing because Brandon was a pretty obedient person and didn't typically step out of line, and how merciful are the powers that be to help hasten the learning curve.  The incident became one of those hard-to-forget lessons, and came to mind when I read the quote on Lorin Price's facebook page, "Good judgement comes from experience and a lot of that comes from bad judgement."

I guess learning and becoming is what life's all about.  There are lots of people around us that offer free knowledge that they may well have paid dearly for.  It's rather puzzling when instead of taking the knowledge for free, we want to pay for it too.

When I was very young, my mother always told me to not put the clothes hangers in my mouth.  I'm not sure what price my mother paid for this wisdom, possibly not much, but it wasn't enough.  I wanted to pay my own price for it.  My parents put me to bed, and I was pretty sure I could put the hanger in my mouth and show everyone how safe it was and how wrong they were.  Well, it got stuck on the inside of my cheek.  I started to cry, loudly.  Dad ran in and saved my day by unhooking the hanger from my mouth.  Lesson learned, right?  Au Contraire.  Not too many nights passed before I wanted to try one more time to put the hanger in my mouth safely.  Darned if it didn't get stuck again and I cried and my parents ran in and saved me, again.  The price was finally high enough and I gained wisdom and can advise with absolute surety, "Don't put hangers in your mouth."

When I was 19, I went to school for a semester in Hawaii.  My friend and I met some vacationers on the beach from Canada, males in their early twenties.  They invited us to join them in seeing Honolulu the next evening.  We were flattered and  felt very adventurous when we said, "Yes."  The afternoon before we were to go with them I had a very foreboding feeling.  I was learning to recognize inspiration, and I knew I should not go, but this was before cell phones and there was no way to cancel.  I convinced myself that it would be rude to just stand them up so we went.  Now this was dangerous in so many ways, I don't even like telling the story, but it's free knowledge for others that was expensive for me.  The evening started out fun, but ended with me rejecting many unwanted physical advances. Boyd K. Packer said, "We will never make a serious mistake without receiving a warning first."  I believe this to be true, and wish I had heeded that warning.

Another example of bad judgement came when I was doing what I thought was a good thing.  When we moved to Kansas in 1996 I had the opportunity to be a presenter at EFY.  It was a great experience, and I felt blessed to be a part of it.  So when the time came for me to apply for the next year, I was looking forward to it, but it was a big commitment, and I did have 7 children with one on the way, so I decided to pray about it.  You know what?  I felt that I shouldn't do it.  I almost didn't, but I really wanted to, so I ignored the impression and justified that it was a good cause and applied.  That turned out to be a hard year.  Especially For Youth changed their program, so instead of each speaker addressing 2 topics we were to address 4.  Preparing 4 supposedly great talks and meeting the needs of my family turned out to be very overwhelming.  God knew that this would be too much for me and it was.  I did it and lived.  But overall I would say that during that time period, I wasn't a great mother and my presentations weren't great either.  So for the price of 6 stressful months and 4 mediocre talks given 2 times each I have learned, once again, that I am not smarter than God.

The list of lessons learned the expensive way is long and not necessarily illustrious, but here is a little more free knowledge that I'd like to share but won't reveal how it came to be mine: Always stir the jello until the granules dissolve, for real, unless you like a layer of jello rubber on the bottom of your dish, Do not use a wooden spoon to stir a mixture that seizes when exposed to water ie toffee, in the same vein, if your vanilla chips are frozen you cannot melt them until they are thawed and dry or an ugly chemical reaction will occur; If your dress ties in the back, make sure the tie doesn't dip into the toilet when you go to the bathroom on the first day of class at BYU;  Check that your zipper is zipped before talking to the cute guy in Psychology; Don't carve your pumpkins too many days before Halloween, and bring them inside if it's going to freeze;  If you're wearing a maxi dress, Lift your skirt sufficiently high at the stairs so as not to walk on it and trip in front of the thousand people who just watched you lead the music;  Don't leave a 9X13 pyrex dish on the top of your car and then drive away; when you are making copies of a test for the biology teacher don't put the extras in the scratch paper pile for him to hand out beforehand.  Just sayin'

Happy Birthday Paul

At first, my dear husband said he didn't need a birthday blog. Can you imagine anyone passing up this opportunity?   But when we started talking about his childhood and his fun memories, we both realized his history needed to be recorded for posterity ( and a few interested friends.)

He was born in San Bernardino, CA October 22, 1957.  As the story goes, when he was a baby his family was living in an apartment in North Hollywood before they moved to Redlands.  There was a fire in the building and he experienced smoke inhalation.  Afterwards he struggled with croup and his parents spent many nights  holding him in the bathroom with the steamy shower running.

Isn't this the most adorable face?

Cute, of course.

When Paul was a little boy he played in the neighborhood with his friend, Kenny.  They played 3 flies up and touch and tackle football in Kenny's yard.  Paul played basketball with his brothers and ping-pong on the homemade family table made out of a plywood sheet on a picnic table.  He also liked to shoot BB guns into the playhouse and explore the sankey ( I don't know how to spell this because I can't find it in the dictionary; it was a small aqueduct)  for adventure and wild raspberries.  

Paul's pets were horned toads, lizards, a tortoise and a skunk.  The tortoise they found in the desert.  It was brought home and introduced to its new habitat in the rose garden.  It crawled back and forth eating the flowers for years.  The skunk came from Loma Linda University.  It had been de-scented.  Paul had to feed it cod liver oil since its oil glands had been removed.  This helped the skunk's skin stay moisturized.  It lived in a cage and always made a mess when Paul fed him.  Paul solved this problem by lining the bottom with tin foil.  One day Paul found his skunk dead with some tin foil shavings nearby.  The moral of the story is don't eat tin foil.  

We still use this awesome Native American costume.
Paul made a super duper head dress out of feathers with YMCA Indian Guides.
Location alert for posterity:  It's in the garage in a cylindrical bin.

Sixth grade was a year of accidents for Paul.  On his 11th birthday he cut his finger at his BD party.  He was carving a pumpkin, his hand slipped on the knife and zzzzt.  His big brother applied direct pressure on the wound before Paul went to the Dr.  Paul remembers the pressure as the most painful part of the ordeal. He broke his arm 2 times, once was while playing Red-Rover. (It figures, that's a dangerous game.)  When he was playing dodge ball in the backyard during family night, he hit the clothesline t-bar with his head.  The game ended, and the emergency room became the activity.  When he was riding his bike (with not very good brakes) he lost control, ran into a bush, flipped and put his teeth through his lower lip.  And he sprained his ankle in PE during dodge ball.  On a related topic, but different year, he wanted to see how many lengths he could swim under water in the neighbor's pool.  He swam four lengths and then passed out.  Luckily his Dad was there to rescue him from the bottom of the pool.  Don't try this at home.

Paul was the only boy at his church group from age 11-16.  He went to scouts with another unit and met his friend, Rob Chappel.  They had great scouting adventures with Rob's Dad as scout master.  They also had some unofficial adventures that involved chemicals, explosions and something about an arc furnace.  Interestingly enough, Paul went on to become a chemist and Rob an electrical engineer.

When I asked Paul if he'd ever been in a fight he said, "Once."  Apparently "Byron, the bully" had been picking on him all year so Paul said, "Meet me after school."  Paul was waiting, Byron walked out.  Paul punched him.  Byron fell down.  Paul didn't know what to do next so he went home.  Byron didn't pick on him again.

Paul went to the Kingsbury elementary school in Redlands, CA.  When that school closed he was transferred to Kimberly elementary.  He didn't want to ride the bus, so rode his bike to school every day.  The ride took 35 minutes.  He could either go the long way or the short way and face the dogs and the hill.  It was cold in the winter so he wore a hat in the morning.  Of course he took it off when it warmed up.  He lost every hat his mom gave him.  He estimated he lost 12-14 hats.

Paul's Dad took Paul and his siblings to Bishop, CA twice a year when he had cases there.  He gave the kids some money and they would go to town and buy comic books and postcards.  After he was done working, they all went fishing on Sabrina Lake.  Dad spent the time baiting the hook and untangling the lines.  Apparently Cathy caught the most fish.  They had a friend there that took them coyote hunting with squealing rabbit calls, and hunting for arrowheads.  Once they were fishing off the dam and Cathy's pole fell over the edge.  Paul had been working on his Pioneering merit badge and had rope in the car.  He tied his rope to the railing, let himself down over the dam, retrieved the pole in the freezing water and saved the day. 

Paul's chores were mowing the lawn, trimming the bushes, picking up rotten apples, and gathering avacadoes and delivering them the the neighbors.  I also recall that he did the dishes at least once, because he ate all his sister's sugar cookies that she had made for school while he was working in the kitchen.  He had his first job when he was 11.  He sold eggs for Arno's egg farm.  When he was 12 he mowed all the neighbor's lawns and took care of their animals when they were on vacation.  At 15 he worked for a miniature golf course and batting cage.  His last 2 years of high school he worked as a life guard.  He even pulled a guy out of the pool and gave him mouth to mouth resuscitation.

In High School, Paul's sports were water polo and swimming.  He wanted to learn the butterfly, but his brother wouldn't teach him.  He learned the stroke from a book-"The Science of Swimming" by Doc Councilman.  This began his journey.  He has learned countless sports skills from his vast sports books collection.  

Paul graduated from Redlands High School and attended BYU-Provo. He played on the water polo team with his brother, Don, who recalled "Paul played the hole, and I played goalie.  There were 3 sets of brothers on the team."

He went on a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints to Quebec, Canada.

After his mission he returned to BYU and spent his summers on the Colorado River where he worked for Western River Expeditions.

Then he met me:)

And he grew a stellar mustache.  And we had some babies.

Dodgeball.
Trying to look hard core.
  Brandon and Becca not so much.

And he played with them and gave them books so they could learn sports and supported them and loved them and has been a wonderful father and husband.

One good thing about this blog post is that I asked Paul to look for his High School scrapbook, which he didn't find. But he did find letters his parents had written while he was serving his mission.  They have since passed, so it was like a "Happy Birthday Paul" from his mom and dad who love him.  Since this is a history I would like to include these letters:

Dear Paul,

 President Owens was thoughtful to give us an opportunity to write to you in his care and to express our love to you at this season of the year when we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, our Saviour.  We are proud that you re serving as His messenger to bring the Gospel of Eternal Life to those who are waiting to hear it.  President Hansen said he was impressed when he set you apart that you would be a good missionary and I feel that he was prophetic.  The Gospel is true.  By living its principles, we can change ourselves so that we can become like Jesus, a Celestial person.

At the risk of making you homesick, we want to tell you that we miss you.  Life is always brighter and livelier when you are near.  Even as a very young person, you were cheerful and happy.  Because of your optimism, I used to say that you thought life was a "bowl of cherries".  We had many happy times together here at home and on trips.  We enjoyed our frequent excursions to Bishop and to Utah.  We enjoyed swimming at pools and at the beaches; fishing at Bishop and at Yellowstone; sight-seeing and camping at Bishop, Conway Summit, Yosemite, Death Valley, Grand Canyon, Kolob, Escalante, Yellowstone, Glacier Park, Canada's Banff,  Vancouver and Victoria, and Mexico's Angel Camp; visiting cities and resorts in Utah and California.

We are proud of your accomplishments, among them: serving in Priesthood leadership positions as President and assistant group leader in your quorums; serving in the Scouting program as Den Chief, Patrol Leader and Senior Patrol Leader and achieving the rank of Eagle; playing the trumpet and the French horn in the school band; developing athletic prowess in swimming, water polo, basketball and skiing; completing two years of college with high grades; establishing a well-deserved reputation for being a good worker; living so that you were worthy to go on a mission.

You hold a cherished place in the hearts of your brothers and sisters.  I think you are Cathy's best friend.  

While we re proud of what you have done and appreciate you as a fine son, we love you for yourself.  We are thankful for you and ask the Lord's blessings upon you and upon your work.

Dad

Dear Son Paul W.

The house is as quiet as a mouse except for Dad and myself.  So one's thoughts go back to all the wonderful years we had you with us.

Your first Christmas found you only two months old, and what a happy little fellow you were.  Just beginning to smile and watch everyone, but all you wanted was to eat and sleep.  

We all have had some fun times over the years putting you back to bed don't know how many times, making you eat before the presents were opened, trying to take snaps and all the funny faces you made.  So we will miss you, but our thoughts are always far away with you.  

Christmas is a time of giving and that is what you are doing, giving the gospel to the people who want to hear it.  May the Lord bless you with health and strength to do this work.  I pray he will keep you safe.  Merry Christmas dear son Elder Paul W.

Your loving mother, J.W.S.

In response to the question, "What would be your dying message to your children?" Paul said, "The Church is true.  Life's too short to not be happy.  Do the things that bring you joy.  Play with your children and take care of your mother."

He closed by saying, "The best decision of my life was marrying my wife and having 9 wonderful children."

Aww. Love you, Paul

How do you repair a broken jack-o-lantern? Buy a pumpkin patch.

I love Halloween.  Not the scary, "All Hallows," undead, haunted house Halloween.  I love cute Halloween,  you know, pumpkins, funny witches, happy bats, dancing to "Ghost Busters" and "Monster Mash."  I love Halloween socks and especially Halloween jokes.  In fact here are some of this year's favorites for your reading pleasure:
 "Why do vampires need mouthwash?  Because they have bat breath."

"Why don't angry witches ride their brooms?  They're afraid of flying off the handle."

"What did one ghost say to the other?  Do you believe in people?"

"What do Italians eat on Halloween?  Fettuccine Afraid-o"

"Why are most monsters covered in wrinkles?  Have you ever tried to iron a monster?"

"Why don't mummies take vacations?  They're afraid they'll relax and unwind."

(This one's for all the nerds I love.)  What do you get when you divide the circumference of a jack-o-lantern by the square of its radius?  Pumpkin Pi"

And my favorite:  Two monsters went to a party.  Suddenly one said to the other. "A lady just rolled her eyes at me.  What should I do?"  The other replied, "Be a gentleman and roll them back to her."   :)

When I was a little girl, the responsible kids went trick or treating for Unicef before they went around on the greed walk.  I did trick or treat for Unicef one year.  It was not as rewarding as was shown on TV.  I wanted to help the starving children in foreign lands, but not many people answered their door and of the door answerers not many gave me their money.  But trick or treating for candy,  that I knew how to do.  The awesome year that my parents decided I was old enough to go with my friend and no adults I dressed up in my Dorothy costume and my friend in her scarecrow costume, (we both took dance from the same place) grabbed our pillowcases and hit the pavement.  We walked for miles (okay throughout our neighborhood and the adjoining neighborhood) until we started encountering houses with the lights off.  When a man commented on my hefty loot I decided that I could possibly have enough candy.  I returned home, sorted the candy and ate the candy until I thought I would never eat candy again. (if only)  So great. I mean, who doesn't need 8 lbs. of candy?

Is it weird that I love the smell of pumpkin guts?  I'm so sentimental about the whole pumpkin carving process.    I remember laying out the newspaper, cutting the top off the pumpkin in an asymmetrical way so as to be able to return it to its rightful place, and scooping and scraping the slimy membranous seeds and goo.  So much fun, unless the stuff got on my arms, and that I couldn't abide...sensory issues.  We didn't have templates in those days, but our family jack'o lantern never had a common expression.  My Dad would employ his artistic skills and carve something fantastic, then Mom stuck a pin in the bottom of the pumpkin to anchor the small taper candle.

When we lived in the country and our house was 1/4 mile off the main road, it was a little heart breaking to watch my mom prepare for the trick-or-treaters that didn't come.  She started inviting (begging) people to bring their kids to trick or treat so she could give them a homemade caramel apple, but I think my Dad enjoyed being free from sugar distribution being a dentist and all.

Creating and wearing costumes is always a plus, but I have to confess,  I experienced some anxiety along with the fun.  I mean, "What if this isn't the day to dress up?  What if it's tomorrow?"  "What if there's a costume memo I didn't get and everyone is dressing as animals, not super heroes?"  Dressing up takes commitment and courage.  If you're wrong, it's hard to act casual.  And then there are the sensory issues. Costumes always have an aspect that bugs...make-up, hair that needs to stay together, hats, uncomfortable accessories, but what price dream making?  Let the dress-up games begin.

High school dress-up day 1976.  

50's dance at BYU 1978.  I'm the one in the stripes and gold scarf.  (My roommate's)

I'm trying to dress-up as an old lady.  I totally wear that apron and glasses like that now.
The nerve.  The sweet baby is Aaron.

When I grew up and became the mom, I was so excited to introduce my children to the happiness of Halloween.  I remember my first costume purchase.  My eldest and only child at the time was probably about 9 months old when I discovered an old football helmet at a garage sale.  My heart leapt at the anticipation of  dress-up joy that my children would experience.  (Okay, no one really wore the helmet, but I just needed a little more expertise in boy brains.  The hero costumes and weapons have been a hit.)  This began my costume journey.  I lived many happy years creating and recycling costumes trying to satisfy my children's desire to become whatever hero reigned supreme that Halloween.  This tradition has fizzled into shopping the Target clearance for next year.  My youngest children's costumes are considerably more professional looking than their older siblings', and I'm not saying that there isn't love in clearance shopping, but there was definitely a lot of love that went into the sewing and gluing years of young motherhood.

My first costume project.  I'm pretty sure I didn't ask them what
they wanted to be.  I got my way a lot when they couldn't talk very well.

Grandma Stoker in her "Bobby" costume.  She is English after all.
The boys are Lion-o.  I don't even remember what cartoon that came from.
The baby gets to be a clown.

New ninjas.  Recycled clown.  In Nebraska your  Halloween
costume has to fit over a down coat for trick or treating.

This is a picture that I can't get to move to the
 right place, but we had Harry Potter, the non-
committal scrubs, Sith, vampire and double adorable witches.

Star Wars Episode 1.  Momentous year.
Yes, I know my finger is in front of the lens.

Recycling year plus the injured soccer player and cute baby.

We were watching "Hook" every chance we got so little Peter Pan, Hook, Smee, a spider
and Daniel: "I don't want to wear a costume."  "Then you can't go trick or treating.
Throw on this fabric and grab a sword.  You can be a valiant prince."

Black ninja, vampire, detective, Brandon?  and the
cutest witch on the planet.

Brandon was a wizard from the Brian Jacques books, Nathan-headless, Jacob and
Eliza recycled.  Aaron was a mummy, my "go to" costume.  Unfortunately, by the
time he got home he was carrying his wrappings and looked like a kid in a coat with maybe
some toilet paper stuck to his shoe.

Heroes-the vinyl proves it.

A "dress-up and shoot" game played with the Brady sisters one awesome summer.
  "Go to the costume box and return photo-ready in 5 minutes."
Such wondrous ensembles.

Scooby-Doo, Musketeer (hand painted by Becca-she insisted on no assistance), and I forgot this guy's name.  I'll ask Andrew.  Oh, it's Link.

Vampire, Sith, and mad Scientist

Ratatouille, Ninja, Princess, parents and a kid that didn't feel like dressing up.

So it's time to get excited for Halloween.  Make sure to buy the candy you like so sneaking is worth it.  Give lots to the cute little young kids and have some peanut butter kisses and double bubblegum, and dots on hand for the teenagers who are old enough to have a job, but are still trick or treating.  And have candy corn, pumpkin muffins and apple crisp in the house, because 'tis the season.  And if you want to play the costume game, come on over.

Thank you for this trial

1 Thessalonians 8:18  In every thing give ^athanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.

I've been thinking a lot about this "thankful in your trials" concept.  It's hard.  During a trial (something that  is happening different than the way I want it to) my natural response is to cry out, "I'm gonna die!"  I'm trying a new approach:  "Thank you for this trial and the opportunity to..."  and guess what?  I'm slowly learning some things.  My faith used to focus on trusting in God's love and power, which is good.  I want to keep that but also trust in God's ability to use trial to make me into someone better than I was.  So now my desire isn't just "get me out of this, pronto!"  (well the thought still lingers in the back of my mind,) but "What Christlike characteristics can I develop and how is this difficult situation a blessing?"  I guess I'm trying to not just have faith in God, but faith in trial as well.

As I reflect on times of trial I realize that one of its greatest benefits is the laser focus on the eternal that happens almost immediately.  My prayers become focused, sincere, pleading and frequent.  I put all aspects of life in order.  My slacking "I'll do that someday" intentions become diligent practices of today.  I immerse myself in the scriptures, searching for counsel and comfort. I reach out to others with a level of compassion that can only come from a heart that has felt pain.  I recommit my life to God the way I always want to, but sometimes neglect to.When I'm facing trials I don't like my life better, but I like myself better. 

 In retrospect some of my greatest discoveries about life and God came when life took a turn for which I would not have asked.  Ten years ago when my young son had surgery to repair his incomplete palate, he woke up from anesthesia very unhappy.  He was in pain and nauseated and in a strange place.  People kept  coming into the room and couldn't always promise "No stick" with a needle.  I held him and rocked him and tried to comfort him..  He cried, "Mom, take me home!"  I would have done anything for that child, but I knew that going home was not the best course for him at that time."  Through my tears I answered,  "No.  We need to stay here where the doctors can help you."  That experience has come to define trial for me.  I am not having fun.  I ask God to get me out and make it stop and sometimes he says, "No, leaving this trial would not be the best thing for you."  But he says it with love, and compassion, and complete awareness of my hurting."

Well, this surgery experience extended and stretched me and taught me more.  A week after the original surgery the repair failed and we were in the emergency room facing an emergency repair repair.  The hospital was full so Gabe recovered in a room sometimes used  for excess equipment.  We stayed all night in the small room with another child and a mom who liked to sleep with the television on.  Gabe recovered enough to go home only to find ourselves back in the hospital for the 3rd monday in a row as he had spiked a fever.  Gabe was the one suffering, but my mental and spiritual wellness was slipping as my bright picture and and, sadly, my hope were fading fast.  Trying to hang onto my tested faith I looked for the positives...looking, looking and then I began to see them.  A message therapy student came by as a volunteer giving free massages.  The mother of the boy in the next bed was very kind.  The cheerful nurse decided that infection and respiratory (Gabe's roommate) patients should not be together so we were given our own room. A resident sat in the hall playing beautiful healing jazz on his alto sax.   As all those lovely gifts were being delivered I read in the Book of Mormon about the people that asked to be free from bondage.  The Lord did not grant them freedom yet, but he did make their burdens light.  I knew God knew our situation and did not remove the trial, but he blessed us in little ways to lighten our burdens and let us feel His love and power and restore my hope.

I've had other sweet experiences born in trying times.  I actually had 2 sons that had to delay their missionary experience because of surgery.  We call this phenomenon the "Mom Training Center" or the "MomTC."  on the second go 'round we were living in West Virginia in a neighborhood that we fondly refer to as the "witness protection program."  We were in the hills, in the forest, on a dirt road surrounded by wild and wonderful (heavy on the wild.) My sweet 19 yr. old son had already spent a funtastic year at college and planned on being on his church mission by then.  Instead he was at home with his Mom.  I tried to show him a big time by taking him shopping and giving him chores. In turn, he tried to not be miserable.  The surgery broke up his monotony a bit, but he was banned from sports...not funny.

 Seven days post-op my son was allowed to do some walking.  He needed a chaperone to keep him from  breaking  into a run and never coming back.  I offered to walk with him around the "block."  Did I mention that there were wild turkeys and bears in the neighborhood?  There was also a horrendous hill.  Previously, I had walked for a while and then turned around and returned along the same route avoiding the challenge available on the last leg of the circle.  Stir-crazy boy wanted to take the long, hard route.  He brought his football just in case.  We took it slow for the convalescent, of course.  As I started up the incline my heart started to beat at an unhealthy rate and I couldn't breathe.  I suggested a little rest.  He reassured me , "You can do it mom."  He moved ahead of me and tossed me the football.  I tossed it back.  He jogged a little ahead, I yelled at him for running, and he threw the football to me again.  He joked a bit and pushed my buttons and tossed the football until I made it up the hill, alive and proud of both of us. And then he got better and went on a mission to Korea and went back to his marvelous life at college. No one would have chosen that situation at that time, but I have a fond memory of love and encouragement and a pretty successful day.  Thanks good son and thanks to God for the time of trial.

Something awesome just happened

If we were to ask people how they feel about graduation ceremonies there would doubtless be a variety of responses. In our family we spoke somewhat derisively of High School graduation.  "It's so long, and isn't it against the law to not graduate from high school?"   I know I have even made the comment, "This is going to be painful."  I'm changing my mind.  Graduation is a valuable marking of a pretty big deal.  Maybe High School curriculum isn't a big deal, but noting the day a person launches into society as an adult who has met the societal criteria kind of is.

One of my children opted out of "walking" when he graduated from college.  This was fine.  It was his choice and it saved me a ton of money.  But it seemed like he was in college and then he wasn't.

  When I attended his brother's graduation this summer I realized everyone should "walk."  For one thing, we listened to some fabulously motivating speeches.  One speaker quoted President Kennedy when he said, "We don't choose to climb the highest mountain because it's easy, but because it's hard.  It best tests and develops our skills and ability."  Other quotes I noted were "Do hard things in the short term to have success in the long term."  "The best ideas come from listening to people on the front lines." Sam Walton and these 4 ideas on leadership: "1. Aspire to lead. 2. Earn the right to sit at the table--by sitting at the servant seat. 3. Stay humble and use whatever power you attain to help others. 4. Lead by serving.  Bring out the best in the people around you"

The other thing is that we all need to stop and celebrate accomplishments and milestones in life.  Otherwise we just go from one worry to another: "I have a test/research paper/project due aaahhhhhhh!" " I need a job/acceptance into a graduate program  aaaahhhhhhh! Let's all take a moment to say, "You fought the good fight.  You perservered and didn't give up. That certificate is yours and no one can take it from you.  You win! Nice work!  We're so proud of you."   When the speaker said, "Congratulations Cougars!" at BYU grad,  I got tears in my eyes and thought, "You're darn straight."  These kids have worked hard for a long time on an important goal.  Yayyyyyyy!"  If we don't stop and mark the event we may not know that something awesome just happened.

Last week my 31 year old son texted me and casually invited me to his Airbourne graduation.  He meant it when he said, "If you want to see airborne graduation (which is no big deal, but could be fun.)  Friday at 9 am at Fort Benning."  I casually started looking at my calendar because it was no big deal.  I had a meeting scheduled, and it was a two hour drive to Ft. Benning, but I might be able to make it. As I thought about it though, I realized I wanted to be there. I got a sub for the meeting.  In the coming days my son texted  directions and this little message, "Feel free to pin my wings on."  I know he would have been fine having his wings pinned on by one of the airbourne guys, but when they announced,  "Loved ones can now come forward and pin the wings on their paratroopers," I was really glad that this loved one was at that ceremony and not at my meeting in Fayetteville.  It may have only been a 3 week course, but it was a big deal to me.  And how else would I have known if I hadn't gone to graduation?

One thing I liked about this ceremony is that the candidates ran to their position to receive their awards
instead of walking slowly.  This seems  like efficiency genius. 

So if someone you love is graduating from something, get there.  You'll be glad you did.