As I have puzzled over a blog topic for the day, I thought about many subjects. I have written one on spring, one on judgement, and had a few other thoughts bouncing around my brain waves…but nothing felt right. Then I thought about blogging about death. No. I couldn’t do that. It would be too heavy. Too serious. But the thought continued…& then came a phone call. The familiar voice on the other end of the line shared news of a loved one’s passing. And so I share a few thoughts:
We have many gifts to rejoice about through this existence–life itself, opportunities to grow, learning, relationships, connections–the list goes on and on and on…and then, our time for learning in this life shifts, and we move onto a different sphere. Whatever you believe, I hope you feel that this moving on is a blessing and not a curse. I do.
And so we live, and we die, and we leave a legacy. What are you leaving? Our loved one left a legacy of laughter, of love for God, of loyalty to family. I pray I will build upon her legacy and that all who know her will be comforted.
One of my favorite songs shares the sentiment of what would happen if today was the only day you had on earth. What would you do? How would you spend today? What have you neglected to say that you need to share? Will you have the courage to share it today?
I hope you will feel this message: live life with laughter; live with loyalty to those you care about; live with love and LIVE TODAY. You never know…

Pardon me a little childhood reflection, please.  My Aunt PK took me with her to a lot of cool places when I was younger.  We went to late movies, to the mall, and on road trips together.  I loved being with her.  We would often roll down the windows and crank up the music and sing at the top of our lungs as we drove from place to place.  One of the musicians she exposed me to was Bon Jovi.  She even had a large poster of him (can you still buy those?) hanging on her door.  I thought he wasn’t much to look at, but I could belt out “Livin’ on a Prayer” like there was no tomorrow…

Well, I don’t really indulge myself too much in music like that anymore, but I did have a recent thought:  “Ohhhh, we’re halfway there…ohhhhh, livin’ on a prayer.”  Sometimes we live in moments, or challenges, or experiences that feel like they are going to last forever.  They aren’t.  I promise.  They are but a blink.  But they feel like forever.  Believe me.  I know.  I have felt those feelings.  But, my recent thought gave me a glimmer of hope.  What if I’m halfway there?  What if I’m over the hump?  What if the end of the trial is just around the corner?  I’ve made it halfway…probably the uphill halfway.  Maybe the next half will be fairly smooth sailing.  I’m halfway there!  I can do this!  I can finish this experience!  I am going to make it!!

So, live on a prayer.  Eat a little chocolate.  Talk to good friends who love you.  Listen to your favorite inspiring music.  And live Mpowered!  You’ll be glad you hung on…you really are halfway there!

A sweet, almost 5-year-old in my life, is growing out her bangs. She hates rubber bands, ponytails, braids, or barrettes, so her hair hangs in her face much of the day. One day recently, though, while brushing her hair before school, I slid two purple barrettes on either side of her face. I loved looking into her eyes without the screen of her hair blocking my view.

When she got home from school, I asked, “Where are your barrettes?” She reached into each pocket and pulled out a barrette from either side. “Did they hurt your head?” She shook her head no. Then I inquired, “Did someone say they were pretty?” Her head moved up & down affirmatively.

You see, she does NOT like to be noticed by her appearance. She hates wearing dresses on Sunday to church because she thinks someone will say she looks so beautiful. She knows she’s beautiful; she just doesn’t like to hear it.

Now, if you want to praise this young lady, notice her strength. Tell her she has strong muscles. Let her know you are amazed that she can carry her 30 lbs sibling around the house with ease or pick up her classmates as she hugs them goodbye. These are the ways she likes to be noticed.

As I thought about her, I wondered how I like to be noticed…and for what reasons I like to be appreciated. I am still pondering. Do you know how to appreciate those in your life in ways they like to be noticed? What do you do that you like others to notice about you?

Last week, we ventured out to a fabulous local park. This park has so many amazing activities–swings, slides, an AstroTurf hill to climb & slide down, moving balance beams, a spider web, a water pump, and a butterfly garden.

 As we were leaving the park, though, our six-year-old discovered a butterfly on a plant. The butterfly’s wings were wet from the recent rains, and our son could hold it as it crawled and creeped from hand to arm to hand. He did not want to leave this beautiful creature that had trusted him enough to hold it.

We talked of what would happen if we took it home. Would it be safe in the car? Probably not. Do we have the right kinds of plants for it to drink? No. He continued to long for the connection he felt, yet he urged the butterfly from his grasp onto a bunch of fuchsia flowers. I felt relieved that he did what was best for the butterfly even though leaving it was difficult for him. I began to walk toward our car with a weight off my shoulders.

Then he called me back. Oh, no. Maybe he had reconsidered. I braced myself for a further plea to take it home, when, as I approached, he said delightfully, “Look, Mom, it’s drinking!” He was an enchanted witness to the beautiful butterfly sipping nectar from the soft deep cove within the flower. His letting go of the butterfly allowed the creature to live and be what it needed to be.

I am grateful for the wisdom of my six-year-old and for the lessons we have learned from a butterfly.

Martin Luther King, Jr. was not alone.  We all have dreams.  I am grateful that he expressed his dream so eloquently and powerfully.  Are we expressing our dreams to the ones in our lives that can help us see them come to pass?

This morning, I was doing some handwashing of various articles of my clothing.  I have said before on this blog that I enjoy handwashing because I feel more connected to the women who have helped give me life–my fore-mothers, if you will–who often used their hands to perform the work we now do mostly by machine.  This morning, I thought of them.  I thought of their dreams for me.  I wondered if, in their minds’ eyes, they pictured me, generations away, struggling and laughing while raising my six children in the best way I know how.  I wondered if they had dreams for their children–a “better” life than they had…less worry, more joy.  I could almost see and feel them calling to me in a difficult moment–”Hang on.  I did.  It was worth it for me.  It will be for you, too.”

Thank you, my mothers past.  I may not know all your names or your stories, but I feel your power.  I feel your strength.  I want to be like you–strong and able, willing to face my challenges and put fear behind me.  I want to love my children and dream of their better lives to come.

I have determined to write–as the Friday tip of the day suggested–my dreams.  I think I will start with the dreams I have for my daughters.  I am feeling close to them today, and to my mothers from generations past.  Someday I hope to thank them properly for their dreams for me.

The month before our girl/boy twins would turn one year old, our daughter became very ill. She, who naturally was very active (my sister even said she was my dancer while Lis was yet in the womb), became listless & would lie down for hours at a time. By the end of the week, my concern consumed me, and I took our sick little baby to the doctor.

After checking her oxygen levels & giving her two nebulizer treatments, the doctor put our little girl on oxygen & called an ambulence to transport her to the hospital.

She was admitted immediately & diagnosed with a collapsed lung, pneumonia, and RSV. She didn’t fight the doctor or nurses who cared for her and performed various uncomfortable tests because of her weakened condition. Before the end of that day, her twin brother was also admitted with similar, though less severe, symptoms.

As I sat in these hospital rooms, going back and forth to nurse and comfort our babies, with my dear husband caring for them in turn, and with family & friends supporting & aiding with our older three children, I still felt troubled. I had nursed my twins, as difficult as that had been, to give them nutrients & vitamins…I had kept them home most of the time out of germs, only attending church…I was doing all I thought I could do. Why was this happening to me? I was just about to close a chapter on one of the most difficult years of my life, and now this?

Through much prayer & faith & persevering through a tough five days, both twins were released to go home with a stronger, better mother. I reached new levels of understanding where I would have been quick to judge before on the weaknesses of others. I had greater gratitude for family & friends who took care of the other details of my life so I could take care of my babies.

As I look back on that time each year about now, I feel grateful…grateful for lessons I’ve learned, grateful for the gift of life, & grateful we will be celebrating their fifth birthdays soon. I also think of a quotation from Elaine Dalton which I admire. She once said, “I can do hard things.”

We can all do hard things. If we will allow, these “hard things” can teach us and refine our character; they can build us where we are weak and strengthen us to be prepared for even greater experiences. With the help of heaven and those around us, we can do all things we are given.

What hard things have you experienced? What have you learned? What will you experience this year to build your character and understanding?

I wrote on my Facebook this past week that I feel like this new year is a package I am waiting to open.  This positive energy I am feeling has already been a gift for the coming year–a compilation of my deliberate desires and practice to be more optimistic over the last year.  My efforts are paying me back…and they have given me a greater dividend than I ever imagined possible.  Still, I am facing opposition…!

On New Year’s Day, something happened that I usually would’ve allowed to infuriate me.  I let it go.  I worked on flashing my new-found smile.  And I felt lighter.

Then, my twins got sick.  Fevers, coughs, up all during the night (in fact, last night, I felt like I was up every two hours…like nursing a newborn again!!)…and I am still happy.  My smile took a little more effort this morning, but with a little help from my dear husband, I made it happen despite the challenges.  And I am happy now. 

I have noticed many more people walking out and about among our neighborhood (New Year’s Resolutions for health, maybe?).  Florida (as many other parts of the US) is very cold right now–yet the people are out and about fulfilling their goals despite opposition from cold & wind.

I used to think that we received opposition to our new goals or plans to derail us…to challenge us so much that we often feel like giving up on what we really want.  Then, for a time in my life, I thought that opposition was really in place to help us appreciate all the work that we do to acquire a talent, achieve a goal, or receive a particular blessing–so we would know that whatever it was meant enough to us to persevere and accomplish.  Currently, I am of the opinion that opposition gives us amazing opportunities to strengthen our resolve to change.

These opportunities are not always going to be met with perfect courage or positivity.  Sometimes we will still fall short, get sick, or have rough days…but as we see the opportunity to strengthen ourselves through the opposition, we can see our own power to grow and change and become the people we want to be.  We are empowered!

So…would you say opposition in all things…or opportunity in all things?

A number of years ago, we attended a seminar with Jack Canfield.  One aspect of his teaching over the years is the principle of asking.  As I have come to learn, asking takes a little bit of courage on our part–but asking can bring about blessings to the asker and the askee that may not have come as quickly had one not been willing to ask.

I taught a lesson earlier this month.  In this lesson, I felt the weight of the sensitive topic and also an urgency to convey the power of my feelings about the subject with clarity and testimony.  As I pondered what I could do to present this lesson, I felt an impression to ask a friend of ours to sing a solo.  When I called to inquire of his wife, she told me that he would love to sing in a group but would most likely be uncomfortable to sing by himself.  I knew I could take the easy way out (and if I had been in the same position in the past, I probably would have given up altogether)…but I held up my head and called his cell.  I said a little prayer for help and got…his voicemail.  Thankfully, though, he did call back.  When I inquired about his singing a solo, he responded, “I don’t usually do that [insert a short moment of pondering], but this time I will.”  WOW.  I hung up the phone in a bit of amazement that he actually agreed!  I was so happy; I think I thought I could fly for a second.

A few days later, I had another thought to involve others in my lesson.  I pondered three people I could ask to share their thoughts on the subject.  The first name came quickly to me, and I made a call with no answer.  Okay.  No big deal.  Then another person’s name came to mind…not someone I would’ve thought to ask, but I called nonetheless.  She was busy, but then called back–and when I asked, she said, ”yes.”  Then I made another call.  This dear friend of mine was out with her husband, yet she took my phone call anyway.  She said to me, much like my soloist, something like this:  “You know I don’t ordinarily speak up and share a lot during class, but this time I will do it.”

I could’ve kept quiet.  I could’ve not asked–but I did.  And guess what?!?!?!  My lesson was successful–mostly because of the participation of the people that I asked to help me.  And because they were willing to open their hearts to say ”yes,” even if it was a stretch for them to fulfill my request, they shared a part of themselves.  All were edified.

I felt so blessed by the power of asking.  So–what will you ask for today?

Driving home from Publix (our local grocery store) the other day, I was listening to a Christmas song by Hilary Weeks about making room in our hearts for the Savior.  I was sorting through various emotions and to-do lists in preparation for our upcoming celebrations, and I must admit that, though I have tried to make the most of our Christmas celebrations, I have felt a tinge of guilt for choosing not to over indulge my children in gifts this year.

They will get a few presents under the tree (we have never been the family to go overboard spending on tangible gifts; I am more apt to give gifts of time through baking, candy making, carolling, and offering service to others during the holidays and throughout the year), but I keep wondering if they will be disappointed.

So, as the guilt swept into my heart, I shooed it out to welcome the feeling of peace as the song continued.  Tears flooded my eyes, yet they did not fall into my smile.  We were parked in the driveway by now, and Joshua peeked his head around my seat to tickle my neck.  I laughed and smothered him with kisses.  Then I leaned over to Lis who was laughing herself in the seat next to me and tickled her to produce abundant laughter.

In an immediate thought, I spoke these words to her:

This is going to be the BEST Christmas EVER!!!!!

She chuckled a bit more and responded with her usual exuberance:

I KNOW!!! 

In tenth grade, we moved to a city full of lakes in central Florida.  Many people use these lakes for taking pictures, feeding wildlife, boating, water skiing, cycling, walking, running, and various other types of exercise.  One particular lake in the center of town is about three miles around and has a nice sidewalk and bike lane.  My friend, Gwen, and I often would “walk the lake” after school for exercise and for fun.  We enjoyed these walks where we could talk, vent, and share our stories with one another.

As an adult, I have returned to live in this same city with my family.  We have tried many times to “walk the lake” together, but we have had trouble completing the entire circumference (my husband has wanted to do this for quite sometime).  We often walked part with my grandmother when she needed exercise for her diabetes, or we would walk another section on sundry Saturday mornings with all our children.  One time, my husband and I even scheduled a babysitter to watch our older children, and we took the baby in a jogger around until the ominous clouds and lightening threatened us enough to turn back toward our car.

Last Saturday, though, we found ourselves with an unexpected pocket of unscheduled time.  Our house was clean; our children had already visited a local park…what would we do?  Trevor suggested we go “walk the lake.”  I was up for the adventure, so we buckled six children in seat belts and car seats and drove ten minutes to Lake Hollingsworth.

We strapped the baby in the double jogger (left over from our twins) and started to walk…all eight of us.  As we began, our children were enamoured of the various birds and ducks which inhabited the area; we even had one son on an alligator watch.

We walked a bit, ran to various trees, swung on a tree branch that had grown over the path, and laughed, held hands, and talked.  About a third of the way around, though, our children took turns getting tired.  A few of them would moan while one cried and was almost dragging along the road.  Three took turns resting in the space next to the baby for a reprieve from the arduous walk.

Then one child wanted to sit on a bench that overlooks the water lilies for a moment.  I joined him just long enough for an older child to climb into the stroller and tip it over–with the baby still strapped into the seat!   We ran to the stroller to find the baby had bitten his cheek somewhere on the way to the ground, but thankfully he was otherwise okay.  As we were halfway around then, we chose to continue on to complete our goal.

The next stretch was very close to the road, and I felt concerned for our children who were walking so close to cars coming and going during this busy time.  I tried to walk near them and stay more aware of their location and their needs.  We continued to walk and run, to talk and laugh.

As we had about one-quarter of the walk left, the fatigue had overtaken a few of our already weary travellers.  One pulled on another, and then that one pulled on my shirt.  As I pulled my shirt lose from the tight grip, one child fell, and the other one fell on top of her.  Her face hit the pavement, and a piece of tooth chipped from her mouth.  I saw the tooth before I could find the place in her mouth from which it had broken.  She cried, of course.  At the time, I felt extremely worried about her face, teeth, and mouth.  Looking back, though, I am grateful that her fall wasn’t worse and that her chipped tooth is not visible by looking at her smile.  I know she was blessed!

Still, we were a bit frustrated, tired, lost the baby’s cup, had one child with a bitten cheek, one with a chipped tooth, one with cramping legs, and one whining the last ten minutes–solid.

Yet–WE FINISHED!!!  We completed our goal.  We persevered.  We did it.  Even with all the adventures and adversities of our journey, we saw it through to the end.

I am still pondering the levels of learning from this experience.  Please share with me: what have you learned?