"How 'bout them Huskers?" aka "On being with child."

Once when I was anticipating a long and boring layover in the Denver Airport, I happily ran into a friend and her husband from Nebraska.  We began chatting, and our conversation turned to labor and delivery stories. You know how we do.  We're definitely bragging.  It's like recounting old sports victories.  Well after patiently listening for a while the husband wryly interjected, "How 'bout them Huskers?"  Point taken, but in my black heart, ever since that day, I've imagined interrupting a "Who should win the Heisman this year" conversation with, "This one time, my water broke :)"

For those of you still reading, I do not pretend to be a health care professional, but I want to share a few opinions I've developed and tips I've learned about baby making, just mom to mom.

There is a wonderful article by Valerie Hudson Cassler that casts a beautiful light on the privilege of bearing children.  She starts at the beginning with Eve in the Garden of Eden.  "It is through women that souls journey to mortality and gain their agency, and in general it is through the nurturing of women, their nurturing love of their children, that the light of Christ is awakened within each soul.  And we should include in that list of souls Jesus the Christ. Even Christ our Lord was escorted to mortality and veiled in flesh through the gift of a woman..."

By understanding the magnitude and importance of child bearing we position ourselves to live it well, give freely what we have and prepare ourselves to give up a few things that we may or may not have again until the resurrection.

My daughter was right when she commented that pregnancy is like Russian roulette.  You never know when you're going to escape the bullet.  For instance, my mother was always nauseated for the first few months. She was 3 months pregnant when I got married, and I remember her telling me that she may not make it to my wedding if she didn't feel good enough.  At the time I was incensed.  "You would miss my wedding because you're feeling nauseated?"  Then when it was me 3 months pregnant I saw the light, "I can't plan anything.  I'm nauseated."  Luckily, my daughter missed the nausea bullet this time, but this is more rare than common.  For all the other moms who have been hit  just remember, this is nature's way of helping you take care of yourself and your baby.  If not for sickness you could easily carry on as if nothing was different, skipping meals, staying up late.  But this way, knowing that you'll pretty much throw up if you  let yourself get tired or hungry, you take naps and snack throughout the day.  Speaking of snacks, I recommend natural whole almonds.  They aren't greasy or crumbly, can easily fit in your pocket and don't smell weird.

One more tip on nausea-adrenalin is your friend.  You think you don't want to leave the house or be with people, but that little surge of adrenalin that attends change and excitement can take the edge off.  Say yes to parties.

Once again exercise is on the must-do list.  You want to be strong for labor and as sane as possible so your family will have positive associations with pregnancy.  I say this laughing because a very common emotion that comes with the marvelous state that is expecting is "If I suffer, we all suffer,"  Let's try and make that a short stage, maybe a blip or two.

Growth is good.  There's lots of talk about baby bumps.  Whatever, more like major metamorphosis of the entire body.  My friends would comment on their baby weight gain.  My true friends would say numbers like 35, 40, 45.  Once my total gain hit 35 I stopped doing the math.  I can't tell what I don't know, but it was a high number.  But what do we expect?  We're feeding a child who's growing a million cells a second, (that may not be quite accurate) and our body is preparing to support nursing a baby, so embrace the growth...everywhere.

The good news is that when we're pregnant we have great hair.  Be prepared for it to fall out after delivery, but in the meantime it's thick and shiny.  Play to your strengths.  Get a great haircut, style it, it's your best pregnant-body feature.  While the rest of your you is waxing and waning, your hair is shining, so work it. And once again I want to emphasize the importance of mascara.

The last trimester is designed to prepare you for labor physically and mentally.  When you're tired of going to the bathroom every 30 minutes and you'd give anything for one really good breath, and people say things like, "You're ready to pop." (I'd like to pop them) and "Woah, when's that baby due?"  And "Are you still here?"  (Clearly they didn't see you crying hysterically in the Dr's. office because you believe with all your heart that you will never be unpregnant) then you're ready to trade pregnancy for labor.

Now it's time for delivery.  For those of you who are pregnant but have never delivered, as you get close to your due date you'll wonder if those braxton-hicks contractions are labor.  They can be regular and uncomfortable, but real contractions have a zing. Real labor is undeniable.

 I like to walk around for a while before going to the hospital.  I hesitate to suggest this if you don't know your typical labor ways, but I do remember on my 7th child not wanting to go to the hospital yet.  It was snowing outside and my husband did not feel comfortable taking the chance of bad roads.  We compromised.  I went to the hospital, but didn't check in.  I hung out in the lobby.  It was perfect because a friend of mine had delivered the day before, and so I got to chat with her and then ran into her visitors in the hall.  When I decided I wanted to check in I was practically ready to deliver.

(TMI alert)  This one time, my water really did break.   I think this should be more of an open topic because I know of no protocol for proper moving through public places after having one's water break.  I had tried to prepare for the outing to the hospital with my normal feminine options, but this did not prove sufficient.  As my husband and I passed random strangers in the hall I remember directing my husband to "Walk in front of me, now walk behind me."  It was hilariously awkward as I couldn't believe this was really my life, and why hadn't I seen anyone else walking around society leaking amniotic fluid?  I read in a friend's blog that she wrapped herself in a towel and headed to the hospital.  Are there any better options out there?  I'd seriously like to know.

Here are my opinions on labor. 1. Screaming doesn't help. 2. Breathing helps.  3. Wiggling your toes helps. 4. Warm whirlpool baths help. (I want one for 3 hours.  20 minutes is not long enough.) 5. Praying helps. 6. Being thankful to be a co-creator with God and remembering the Savior's sacrifice helps. 7. A loving husband and calm and capable doctor help. 8. A sense of humor helps.  (a note here.  No one should be telling any jokes but mom.  Anyone else who dares to be funny risks elimination.)

And then the baby,  the little person that you have been with for 9 months. That wiggling, kicking, hiccupping bone of your bone flesh of your flesh is in your arms.  This will be one of your best friends forever.  You will know them better than anyone else and love them better than anyone else.  You will be the one who loves them when they feel no one else does.  You will be the one they want to call when they're sick or hurt or life is hard.  You will teach them about God and love and faith and hope.  It's a big job, but it's yours and you were chosen for each other, not because you're perfect, but because it's right.  And God will help you do it.

Stories and life

"Once upon a time," began my mother's soft voice .  I knew something wonderful was coming. It could be new, but more often than not is was familiar and beloved.  It might be "The 3 bears" teaching me that it is very bad manners to go into someone's house and use their things without asking, not to mention that horrifying moment when one is caught in the act.  Or maybe it would be "Rumplestiltskin" bringing home the lesson that one should never put on airs and pretend to be something they're not, and all promises need to be kept unless it has to do with losing your first-born child in which case there might be escape through a miracle.  "The 3 little pigs" taught me to be wise and put the time into a job well done.  Build for the future.  And in my mother's story the wolf didn't boil in a pot, that would be mean.  He ran away, never to be seen again.

My Dad delivered an excellent version of the "Brave little tailor"  much better than the Disney version.  His story could last through 3 bedtimes and fill the days in-between with rapt anticipation.  When he was done I felt confident that I was clever enough to outwit any giant  His "Wind and the Sun" telling clearly demonstrated that smiling warmth was much more influential than threatening, bitter cold.  (One can never review that lesson too much.)  And "Town Mouse and Country Mouse"  always reminded me to be thankful for the blessings I had and not to trade my country grain for a city cat.

The memories of these voices telling these stories have become dear treasures.  I'm sad to report that I did not do as much story telling to my own children, but I did read them books.  My favorite books were of course from my childhood.  "Harry the Dirty Dog" taught my children that if they didn't take a bath their own family wouldn't recognize them. Wait, maybe that's only if you're a dog.   "The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes" is a personal favorite as the devoted mother of 21 little cottontail bunnies is chosen to be one of the Easter Bunnies because of the skills she developed through raising a family, which I'm pretty sure is  true. Thanks to E-Bay I was able to procure "Brenda Brave Helps Grandmother" written by Astrid Lundgren, copyright 1961.  My mother read this special story to me when I was a little girl of Christmas sacrifice and love.

I'm bringing this up because speaking of cherished memories, my husband finally found the book, "Woah Joey." on e-bay.  This was a little book that he read a million times to our first little boys, the book that Daniel learned to read by.  Of course, upon arrival, Paul sat down and read it to Gabe, our 13 yr. old last-born, who seemed a little confused as to what all the fuss was about.  When he read the words, a flood of sweet memories came rushing to my mind of bedtimes and babies and a countless readings of stories, and I realized the power of  pictures and words and laps and and loved ones.  With that in mind, I'd like to share a list of some of my favorite books that we (Paul and I) read to some of my favorite people on the planet:

"Saint George and the Dragon" retold by Margaret Hodges- The moral of this story is that with discipline and diligence you can slay the dragon and get the girl.  Paul was the best reader of this tale.  I have been accused of skipping pages to make the story shorter.  I will neither confirm nor deny, but it's a favorite with the boys.

"Grumpets in Trumpet Land"  by Peter Cross was an intricately designed tale of communities (war) who's study could take the whole evening.  A perfect choice for a child hoping for a later bedtime.

"The King with Six Friends" by Jay Williams is a book on leadership where we combine talents for greater success.

"Sylvester and the Magic Pebble" by William Steig teaches us to be careful and wise with power and don't forget there's nothing more important than the love of family.

"Yertle the Turtle and other stories was another favorite read by Paul that teaches us not to be power hungry, vain, or boastful.

"Tikki Tikki Tembo" by Arlene Mosel reassures us that being regular has its benefits.

I loved reading "The Kissing Hand" by Audrey Penn. " Mommy loves you," is the very important message.

Another favorite of mine was "The Mystery of the Boy Next Door" by Elizabeth Rider Montgomery which teaches us to be kind and not judge when we don't know a person's circumstance.

I got a lot of requests for "A Fox Jumped Up One Winter's Night" mostly because my parents had the record so I could sing the words.

But, the most requested  book for me was "Mommy, Do I Have to Serve a Mission?" by Toni Sorenson Brown.  The boys liked to see how long it would take me to cry as I read about the little boy who grew up to be a missionary.  I usually got to "Once there was a little boy who loved his mommy." before my voice started to crack.

Now I read to my grandchildren.  When I'm at their house I read their books.  One time Caleb asked me to come into his room and watch him play.  He had a pretty extensive Star Wars Battle in the works.  He asked me to read him a book.  The book he chose was the Clone Wars Encyclopedia.  The moral of this book is ..um... it's good to have cool weapons.  As I read a million profiles of a million characters I wondered if it mattered that I was reading.  Then came these sweet words, "I like it when you read to me Grandma.  I like the sound of your voice."  And then my heart melted.

Some things motherhood taught me about God.

Since I was the oldest of 9 children, I had some experience with babies before I became a mother.  I had held babies and changed babies and smelled new-baby skin and kissed warm baby cheeks.  My mom's last child was born 3 months before my first child, so I had cuddled my brother not too long before I cuddled my son.  I felt confident that there was little about motherhood that would surprise me. Well, surprise.  There were miles of surprises, not the least of which was the amount of love I felt for the new life that I took home from the hospital.  It wasn't just great and strong and everlasting.  It was fierce.  As life went on this love for "my child" became love for  "my children."  It's not that I didn't see their imperfections and weaknesses, it was that I clearly comprehended their exquisite potential and my responsibility in opening their vision to that potential.

Which brings me to the first lesson I learned about God.  I have always believed in God, but there was a time or two when I would throw a tantrum and wonder why my life had to be hard, and sometimes I did what I wanted instead of what I should, but I always believed and had hope for heaven.  When I became a mother, the game changed.  The stakes became higher, which shows how kind He was to bless me with children.  When my children occasionally did what they wanted instead of what they should, I felt myself panic.  It wasn't enough to believe in God.  I had to know that redemption was real and that there was power in the Savior's sacrifice and that my cherished offspring would be forgiven and sanctified and made whole and reach their potential.  It was at this place I began to desperately search for this knowledge.  I studied the scriptures, prayed and waited... and the answer came.  "I would not have allowed my Son to suffer if  his atonement and sacrifice had no saving power."  Because I had loved a child, I knew this to be an absolute truth.

My children are delightful to be sure, but it's possible that there has been a brief moment or moments where I was not happy with their choices.  Of course I felt very sorry for myself during those times.  After all, hadn't I told them and told them and showed them and showed them and then they went and chose something else?  I could have been sitting on the couch eating bon bons the whole time instead killing myself with goals and discipline and teaching. It was during one of these dramatic moments that I realized suffering because of the choices of others is something Jesus Christ did, but he did it with love and willingness to serve.  And he had done it for me and mine, and you and yours. So I needed to remember to give gifts freely without any thought of return.

Another lesson I learned came during childbirth, not my first childbirth or even my second.  But after some of my children had been born I realized some symbolism in the process.  All things testify of Christ, and I understood that just as it was through Jesus Christ's pain and suffering that we can be born again and have eternal life.  The pain and suffering of a mother gives way to birth and mortal life.  It was then that I felt that I was a partner with God in the creation process.  Truthfully, remembering this made labor more meaningful and more tolerable.

Jesus Christ loves us and has made it possible to return to our Father in Heaven because of  the perfect life he lived and the precious blood he spilt. This I know with an absolute hope for heaven for all who faithfully and diligently repent and obey and love Him.

Happy Birthday Paul 2

Today at 1:06 AM

Happy Birthday to my sweet husband who works hard to support us and make all our wishes come true.  I love you.  xoxox, Laurie

Dad, you are such a good example of how to be a great husband, father and grandpa!  Thanks for always spending the time with us, being involved with our sports and school and trying to find ways to be in our lives.  You are a great dad and grandpa.  Caleb and Landon really enjoy their time with you and always look forward to seeing you.  I love hearing about your adventures as you search for that perfect job and appreciate your advice to make us better athletes and men. We couldn't do it without you.  Hope you have a great birthday!  We love you.

Rangers Lead the Way.

D and E

Happy Birthday Grandpa, Hope you have a good day.  We miss you, I wish you could come and visit and play legos.  Love you.  Caleb

"Bubble"  "too, toooo"  "da-da" "Thisch"

Landon

Hey Dad,

I appreciate you supporting us through our lives. You are a good example of a hard worker, and have really helped me become a better person. I love how you take time to teach us how to play and how to win.

Also, thanks for always letting us know how much you love us. Not everyone can say the same about their dad. Happy Birthday. Your great.

Brandon

To dad

Thank you for being a good example of a good Dad for me. I love how much you love your family and enjoy spending time with us. I love that you love Mom like crazy and that you're willing to do anything to make her happy. You are a great Dad and a great example to all of us.

Nathan

Dear Papa Stoker!

Happy Birthday!!  Thanks so much for being an awesome father-in-law.  You have always made me feel so welcome in the Stoker family. Not gonna lie, I was super intimidated coming into the all-so-talented Stoker family with little strategy gaming skills and absolutely no volleyball experience ;-)  But you have always made me feel like I belong.  You are always so complimenting, encouraging, and AWESOME!  I love how much you love your family and how well you take care of everyone around you.  You are such a good teacher and such a fun and funny person to be around.  I love to hear Nathan's fun stories about growing up and all the adventures he had with his dad.    Thanks for raising a great son and an wonderful family.  I hope you have a fantastic, enjoyable Birthday!  Love you, Dad!!

 Ari

Hey Dad,

Hope your birthday's a great one.  I'm not sure what number this is for you because you're still pretty young to me.  You could eat ice cream every night if you wanted.  If you don't still.  So all I have to say could be summed up in two words: Thank you. 

But in case you're not sure why those two words, let me keep going.

Thanks for being my Dad.  Not everyone gets books every night until they're 13.  Not everyone gets to wake up to the cougar fight song and come into the kitchen with the oven opened up so we could be warm.  And if that wasn't enough there was the fresh pot of oatmeal to "stick to our ribs."  Not everyone gets a personal coach, sponsor, and fan all wrapped in one.  Thanks for all the support and all the sports lessons.  I know you gave us your all with each piece of advice.  I didn't know when you first showed me how to shoot a basketball that "elevator up" meant I love you.  Thanks for keeping it coming.  Thanks for your dreams.  It was great sail on them growing up: fishing, foosball, ping pong, volleyball, dodgeball, tennis, and even sailing.  Thanks for keeping your message clear: we could do anything!  Thanks for repeating it even when it didn't always stick. I'm grateful to learn your lessons today and through my memories.  Thanks for helping us with the girls in life.  We should've listened better to you.  Just to let you know I got myself a girl that's got the 4 B's: booty, bum, buttocks, badonk.  Thanks for being a worthy priesthood holder.  Thanks for going hometeaching and giving us father's blessings.  Thanks for praying with us in the home.  Thanks for loving our mama.  We all learned how to love from you.  She made a great decision in marrying you and she's lucky to have you.  

Dad thanks for giving us the best years of your life.  You always made time for us and I know that you cared about us the most.  

I love ya Dad.

Aaron

Dad, Thank you for raising such wonderful children! I am so lucky to be part of your incredible family. I love how much love there is from Stoker to Stoker, and I plan to adopt the same loving kindness in my future Stoker home. Thank you for making the Stoker name great and strong! Thank you for setting the bar and being an example to your children, especially for Aaron. He loves you so much, and I am thankful for your influence in his life. I am so excited to be a part of the Stoker family that you & your amazing wife have created! Love, Clarissa

Clarissa

 SDad loves sports. He loved to teach us and support us and infuse in us a love for sports as well. It is one of his favorite ways to connect with his kids! When I was younger I didn’t always love the coaching, even if it was good for me. But one particular evening of shooting hoops with dad at the Church gym has stood out to me. We were shooting and I was getting frustrated and to me it felt like we had been shooting forever. I wanted to be done. I said so but dad was firm and refused to leave unless I ended on a good shot. My percentage had been pretty bad for the evening and I grumbled and lazily threw up a shot or two until I realized I’d actually have to focus to get a good shot. I of course shot until I “swished” it and then we went home. That’s been a lesson that has stuck with me. It’s something that I think about and has a sort of adapting message. Usually it reminds me to have a good attitude, give it your best, and to never give up. I love you dad!

Jacob

Paul Stoker was the perfect father for his little princess-in-training. When I was little, he would let me step on his feet and we would dance and dance around the kitchen. I felt like the most beautiful girl in the world, well, except for my mom :)He would also indulge my girly tastes and stick up for me when my brothers were teasing me.He attended his fair share of dance recitals, musicals, sporting events and choir concerts. I always felt that he supported me and was proud of me.  We went on so many fun dates. Just my dad and me. His favorite may have been our Dick's Sporting Goods adventures where we would practice our golf swings on the mini green, and try out all the sports equipment on the floor. There were many nights in high school that I would unwind with a game of ping pong. We'd talk about my forehand, and backhand, but mostly we'd talk about life. I loved those nights. My dad was always ready with a hug and a kiss, especially when I needed it the most. His love was unconditional and I'll always be his little girl. 

Eliza

Dear Papa, I think you're the best Dad ever! I miss you singing Man has a dream and no business like show business, I love how you have always pushed me to be the best I can be. I love you so much Dad. 

Love,

Andrew

To my wonderful Father,

           Thank you for being so happy. On so many occasions I remember waking up to, "So wake up and do something more

than dream of your mansions above..." You have been a great example of always doing and giving something more.

I am thankful for your sacrifice in giving your children all that you have even if we don't 

deserve it. From ice cream dates to five minute back rubs, I love being with you. 

You are talented, handsome, and have a wealth of knowledge. I appreciate you teaching us the value of education. 

When I was younger, you "sucked our brains out" with a sloppy kiss, but you gave them back because you knew we would need them later.

Especially, thank you for your continuous support in each of your child's interests and goals. As you have taught us,

"Man has a dream, and that's a start. He follows his dream with mind and heart until it becomes a reality. It is a dream come true for you and me..."

Thank you for letting us dream. 

I love you with all my heart! I hope you have a wonderful birthday!

Love,

    Rebecca 

Happy birthday Dad I love you hope you have a great birthday.

Gabe

Happy Birthday Mary

When this little blonde-haired blue-eyed girl was born, my parents wanted to name her Mary Kristen.  After thinking about it, however, they decided it sounded too much like "Merry Christmas" so changed her name to Kristen Mary.  We continued to call her Mary, well not really, a lot of the time we called her "Baby."  My mom loved Engelbert Humperdink, and his music was playing much of the time.  On one occasion, said artist was crooning away, and sweet little sister happily declared, "He's singing I love you baby!"  And well he should, because everyone loved this baby and everyone still loves her even though we call her "Mary."

She was what my mom described as "Bonky cheerful."  Now we know that what Mom meant by that was athletic, talented, kind and happy.  My Dad used to make up stories to help our behavior.  There were sisters, "Grabelda" "Firstina", something like"Selfishista" and "Charity."  I was pretty sure Charity was Mary and I was the other sisters.  I actually have other sisters who are kind, and I may not have been the only sister who was looking out for #1 at least some of the time, but little Mary was a stand-out.  She was patient and loving and fun, always making up games and activities for her brothers and sisters.

Mary puts the "holi" in day. Her siblings had it made and now her kids have it made.  A few of their fun traditions are summer camping, Back to school night, Christmas Eve date with her husband, super birthdays, and family movie nights.  Okay, you probably read right over the words "Back to school night" without even pausing, but I'll tell you.  What they do at the Jones house is fantastic.  This year Mary and Jeff dressed like Harry Potter characters and spent the whole dinner in character. The theme is a surprise to their children, and I can't even describe the details.  Maybe she can blog about it;)

I was 7 when she was born, so when I was in High School she was about 8.  This was a very cool time for me.  Actually this was a very grumpy time for me.  Little miss bonky cheerful was living the dream, and I may have had a lapse in gratitude for this blessing of a sister. We love to remember the day she reported with glee how she and her friend who lived across the street from the high school had gone over to basketball practice and stolen the players's shoes and put trash in them.  This was not as hilarious to me, as those were my friends, and I couldn't see this as anything but annoying.  She confessed that bugging my teenage self was actually one of her favorite activities.  I'm super glad I didn't kill her because she is one of my favorite people on earth and has been making my life better for many years.

One of my favorite of Mary's many gifts is her music.  Her mind is full of songs, the best songs.  I remember driving to a family reunion with her and Heidi and my aunt when she was in college.  She and Heidi sang and sang with the most beautiful harmony.  It was heaven.  When she came to visit young mother me she entertained my children with her happy music.  I couldn't believe her repertoire was so extensive.  I had her write her list of children's songs on a piece of cardboard so I could pull it out and sing to my babies. It was kept in my kitchen cupboard at the ready for a long time. She has composed  many songs for church programs and inspirational listening.  I'm just so proud of her.

Another highlight of life has to be at family talent shows when Mary and Megan tickle us with their ...hmm... what shall we call it?  Comedy Dance.  I looked back in the annals of talent shows and found this amazing dance number to "Love Shack."  This could be where it all started.

(See facebook for this video)

And this is where they've come and I love it so much.

Mary, thanks for being wonderful.  I love you..

Dreams and Cages. What's standing between me and my dreams?

It was Friday, my day off, the day I don't prepare for seminary, so I was reading my recreational fiction.  The book  was "Blackmoore" by Julianne Donaldson.  The characters had been introduced, and Kate (the main character) had gotten herself into a tight spot.  She was having a dramatic moment, which moments I usually tolerate with superior amusement,  but I found my heart breaking and tears springing from their hiding place.  This surprised me, and I've been pondering why this tugged at and broke my heart strings.  The passages are as follows: "I feel caged.  Always.  I feel like I am this bird, trapped and stifled and caged, and I keep looking for a way to escape, but I am barred at every turn."  "That is how I feel about India.  I want to go so badly the wanting hurts.  But I am afraid that I won't ever go, and I'm afraid that I will never realize this dream, and if I don't realize this dream, then it's possible I won't realize any dream.  And I'll just live a bleak, dreamless life without adventure or joy or choice or--or--living." "All I can think is that I will end up like this poor bird.  I will beat myself against the bars of my cage until I am too exhausted, and then I will give up and live the rest of my life without a song and inside a forgotten room."

The character and I do not have much in common. I don't care about going to India (turns out this dream was just an escape.) She is an 18 year old girl with no resources  under the control of her mother.   I'm the mom and I do what I want. I have a bank card and it works (with a lot of limits of course.) I know I have choices so rarely feel trapped in that way, but I have to ask myself, "What are the bars that cage me?"  "What are my unrealized dreams?"

This is what I have determined.  The bars of my cage are fear, distraction, and laziness.

FEAR:   When I was a semester student at BYU Hawaii  there was an opportunity for the students to go for a weekend cruise.  It was an affordable 3 days around the Hawaiian islands.  Of course I did not sign up. What if I didn't know anyone?  What if no one talked to me?  What if I missed something important at home?  Besides that, I shouldn't spend any money.  So home I stayed while probably 80 % of the semester students were cruising around the islands having a wonderful time.  At least I was safe in my cage.

On another occasion a brave friend invited me to go with her on a cruise through Central America to see the Mayan ruins.  I had a husband who told me it was a chance of a lifetime and wouldn't think of letting me miss this.  It remains to this day one of my most memorable experiences thanks to a friend and spouse who opened my cage door.

DISTRACTION:  Sometimes at the end of the day I say, "I know what I did today, but is that what I wanted to do?"  My dream was to show the people in my life that I love them through some small gesture that I forgot to perform because I got on facebook, or started sorting stuff, or shopping or some other impulsive act.  My dream is to improve in music, but I didn't touch one musical instrument.  My dream is to learn and to serve and to grow, but I forgot.

LAZINESS: I have an ongoing dream of experiencing America, particularly my local area, which means one of the 10 states in which I have lived.  This week I was invited by a friend to hike Pine Mountain with a group of women.  Even though this experience aligned with my dream, my first response was, "I'm too tired for an all day hike.  When will we be back?  I suppose I'll have to make preparations like pack a lunch and water etc."  Their enthusiasm was convincing, however, so I crept out of my cage and joined them on their really beautiful and fantastic day.  It could only have been improved had I stopped complaining a little sooner.  (I really wasn't prepared for no bathroom.)

I've been observing people who realize their dreams and  have noticed some commonalities among them:

1. They state their dream boldly.  They don't say, "Well, I might go into psychology if I can get into the program."  They say, "I'm going to be a counselor."  And interestingly enough,  people don't doubt their bold statements, and those dreams are usually realized.

2.  They are resilient.  Of course doors will shut.  While I'm saying, "I can't write a book.  Someone might say I'm a bad writer."  They say, I will improve, I will get better, I will try another door, cages can be opened.

3.  They are hard working.  My son, Gabe, wanted to play a song from "Pirates of the Caribbean" on the piano.  He has had about 5 piano lessons from his sister and knows 1 other song.  The song he chose was above his level.  It is too hard.  It is not fun.  It did not sound at all like "Pirates of the Caribbean."  He's worked on it almost every day for 2 months.  He is learning it. Today it is a very recognizable "He's a Pirate."

4.They can act independently.  "This is what I'm doing.  Come along if you want."  Not, "5 people begged me and told me they'd help me.  Maybe I'll try it." (I confess I am typically of the latter ilk.)

5.  They are hopeful.  They don't say, "What if I don't like this or what if it turns out horrible? I probably can't do it." They know how to make life great. The worst thing that can happen if they go after a good dream is that they can learn and improve.

I have a friend from church who has actually published a book.  Her name is Victoria Wilcox and she wrote "Southern Son: The Saga of Doc Holliday."  (You should read it.) I'm so intrigued by this accomplishment from a real person.  Was she ever afraid that she wasn't good enough to write a book for the public?  How did she stay focused on the project for the years it took to finish the work?  And speaking of work, was she sure she wanted to commit herself to a project that big, I mean, what if she didn't feel like meeting her deadlines one day?  Apparently not, and she just did it, and yes, she was sure.

So we have some choices.  We can stay safe in our cage and never get rejected by a publisher, or a coach or an audience or lose our luggage or have a child that disappoints us or a loved one that hurts us.  Or we can fly and take our talents as far as we can go and visit wonderful people and places and have a family filled with lasting joy and love and give our whole heart because we do not want to live the rest of our life without a song in a forgotten room.

Food insanity, no really.

I know I'm a  stress bucket, but I am going to confess that food is one of the most crazy places for my brain to go.  Can I just vent a little here?  So no one wants cancer, right?  I just read that if you want to not feed the cancer potential that's already in your body, eat plenty of fruits and vegetables.  So far so good, well maybe better with fruit than vegetables, but would you rather eat more grapes and watermelon or more broccoli and cauliflower?  That's what I thought.  And if you really would rather eat more cauliflower I salute you as an outlier.  Moving on, and don't eat processed foods or sugar or artificials or white flour, pasta etc.  Well, isn't that just dandy?  Guess what's in my cupboard?  Pasta, Wheat thins, flour, canned vegetables, and cereal, none of which is allowed for people who don't want to get cancer.  Oh wait, there is a small bag of brown rice which takes twice as long to cook as white rice and so has gotten used once in 2 years.  There is also a bag of Quinoa in the back which apparently is a very good choice so I'll put that in front of the Honey Nut Cheerios to impress my healthy friends who look in my food cupboard... never.

So, no cancer, no cancer, but what about storing food for a rainy day or a disaster or a government shut down that never ends?  Okay, the canned vegetables can stay, the nuts are fine, granola bars, wheat, raisins, egg powder, (isn't that processed?), white rice, beans, oil (is that good fat or bad fat?) canned chicken would be perfect (probably full of artificials), and I'm definitely going to need some sugar, sorry cancer.

And did you hear about the genetically engineered foods that are causing rampant food allergies, gluten intolerance, etc.?  Don't eat grains grown in America especially by Monsanto.  Go to Europe to buy bread.  I bought my wheat in the US of A.  I thought it was the staff of life.  Now it's the devil.  No bread, no bread.

And some people that I love eat paleo.  More protein means more muscle. "What's for dinner?   Chicken and... chicken."  "What's for breakfast? 20 eggs and chicken."  I can see that builds muscle, but that can't be good for life, right?  Because too much meat is not healthy.  We should be eating whole grains, but not grown in America, a little meat, and lots of fruits and vegetables (there they are again.)   There are also people that I love that are vegetarians, maybe I should learn more about that... or  maybe I should let them duke it out with the paleos, in a loving way of course.

And then there are the people that I'm supposed to be keeping alive.  I slaved over a delicious dinner tonight: bad-pasta and cheese, good-tomatoes, spinach, egg plant, grapes, and a little bit of chicken.  The 13 yr old took the slightest piece of chicken, ate the pasta while artfully dodging the spinach and tomatoes, was good with the grapes and positively gagged the egg plant.  He told me it was as bad as cantaloupe.

Well, the 15 yr. old girl was happy.  She likes healthy food so I could just cook for her and if the 13yr. old got hungry enough he would eat it.  I'm a veteran mother who should not be catering to picky eaters, but have you seen my 13 year old boy?  His ribs stick out.  Sometimes I see him eating butter and I'm thrilled (I know, cancer.)  And guess what else?  I buy him hot dogs and encourage lots of mayonnaise on his sandwich and give him a spoon of peanut butter with his breakfast.

And if you want to know the truth, I'm a lover of comfort food...apple crisp and pumpkin muffins in the fall, toffee, caramel popcorn and hot chocolate in the winter. (white, since I actually do have a food rule:  No chocolate.)  Strawberry shortcake in the spring, corn on the cob and watermelon in the summer. Which, according to the fitness people at the gym, means my body is addicted to sugar and starch and needs at least a 14 day fast from those evil foods. But my grandfather lived until he was 90 and lived on creamed potatoes and peas and cracked wheat.  He also loved  good pie.  So that's what I think about when I want to make cookies (with lots of oatmeal and nuts, of course). And do you know what else I really love?  Brats and deep fried anything.  Now you know, I'm a carny girl at heart, but I don't want cancer.  So  I'll keep trying to move in a healthier direction, but quinoa mint salad just doesn't feel as festive as raspberry cheese cake, am I right?