Staying

orange crayon on the inside of the toy closet door

cracks in the tile

finger smudges on the lower glass panels of the french study door

faded plastic swing

weathered wooden steps to a lookout

candles partly melted

books and books read over and over

silent pianos, notes still ring in the air

grass outside the sink window 

dirt hill where mud pies baked

stacked beds sleepy heads

laughtered walls

front door staying open 

all day

remember the rat we all corralled out the front door

someone had a broom

we all yelled 

remember when the door opened on its

own the day after she left

like it used to when Spottie went

from garage to backyard

and we thought it was her coming

for a visit

the rush to be on time but we were

always just a few minutes late

naps

Prime Rib Sunday dinners

chats about wedding jobs

hard to hope 

of making other memories

I will hold on to this place

where I gave my life

there are more of the good

than the pain that remains

so I will keep what I have

and stay

Miracles

 Miracles, there have been so many.  I am going to just talk about one that happened yesterday.  There is a lot of back story that I will not go into right now.  Let me just say that this miracle took years and it is one of many, like steps along a long and important path.  Yesterday, my youngest son entered the Kona LDS temple to participate in vicarious baptisms with the young adults of the YSA Ward.  It was the first time he had been to the temple since he was 14 years old.  This was very significant as it has taken him this long to feel comfortable going there for various reasons.  It was an emotional time for him.  He had made major changes in his life over the past year in order to walk through those doors. I am proud of him. But more than that I am so happy for him.  It is a miracle that he has turned his life around.  I have always believed that people can change and that key to the process is our Savior, Jesus Christ.  His love and his atonement gives us hope.  I am so grateful for the gospel and specially for all those who are followers of Christ who have helped my son feel His love.

Been Awhile

I think it has been months. Well, the Christmas Season is over and it was great. Our Santa is very good at what he does. So, thanks to him for making wishes come true. Our 8 yr old son was particularly happy this year because of all the things he finally got that he had been wanting but was not ready for till now. The management and use of material objects takes responsibility. He was prone to breaking things but has become more coordinated and better at fine motor skills. So, he got a DSI, remote control car, Toy Story toys, coloring activity thing and clothes. We got a trampoline for the big motor skills. He got a pillow pet like his sister. It was one miracle after another for him. For so long he had been wanting these things and finally he got them. It has changed his life! He believes in Santa, I think. Or at least I think he thinks he had better pretend to believe or the stuff may not come. The life of a child.

Just have to vent

It's really not venting in the traditional sense because, actually, that which I am "venting" about I really enjoy. I just finished a paper, am about to write another one on a topic I feel, at best, shaky about, and I have a final exam to do by tomorrow which is a day already packed with two soccer games (one I will have to miss) and three yoga classes to teach in addition to the regular daily life of keeping track of a family and feeding them. It is the schoolwork that is new to the mix of life. But I do like it. My husband can never understand it. I like my brain to be working. It makes me feel fresh, vibrant and young. Maybe it brings me back to feelings of being a child when every experience was a learning one. Maybe it just feels good because it is linked to feelings of accomplishment and future. Whatever the reason, just thought I would give myself a break and "vent" about all I have to do before getting back to it. The cool thing is that I am not tired and I don't anticipate being tired after it's all over. I imagine it will just energize me. That has to be a good thing.

xoxo

The best thing about having kids is this - being able to still hug and kiss them even when they are grown up and being able to always talk sweet with them even when they are big.

Our strange ways

We all have strange ways. Would everyone agree? Is there anyone who is completely pleasant and well-adjusted so as not to display any quirks that could bother anyone? Maybe. Our dog. Oliver, is pretty pleasant to have around. I think it's because he can't talk. Is that the answer? Say as little as possible? I don't know. I get uneasy around people who don't talk much. I wonder what's wrong and if they are feeling all right. Oliver doesn't talk and is cute. Not say much and be cute, is that the answer? Not completely. Oliver also feels just a few emotions: love, loyalty, patience, playfulness, protectiveness and the basic physical needs like hunger, thirst, etc. So therein is perhaps the key factor, keep things simple, basic and limited to the most amiable of emotions. I'll try it, starting now, don't talk much, keep feelings simple and take care of my basic needs. Oh, and look cute. Then I will be the most pleasant of people to be around and maybe those around me will follow suite. One can only hope.

Father Brother

p.s.
I have to thank someone for putting this in my head. She has no idea how much she has given to me. Thank you.

The above is from a post in a writing workshop I am a member of. It was written by a writer whose correspondence I have been in touch with and been responding to. He went from thinking he had cancer to trying to quit smoking to getting a GED on the way to going to college. There were other dramatic moments throughout which we shared indirectly through our posts. I rarely responded directly to his entrees. Rather, I would write a poem, several on most days, in response, which shared my insight and feelings. I have to believe he read my posts as diligently as I read his because my vocabulary would show up in his entrees - words like "plan", "warrior" and "listen."

After reading the above tag to his entree called "College" I felt a surge in my heart and tears come to the surface. At the same time I shrugged it off thinking it's probably a lady friend. But something inside gives me hope that it might be me. Somehow my desire to help, dressed in the poems I wrote, may have made a difference in one man's life. He represents the father and brother that I care for yet was too young to help in their time of need. Maybe someday I will have a chance to tell him, "You're Welcome." If, he was talking about me, if.

Real Victory

I am about to disclose, that is, share something in public that is, by some standards, private. Whose standards? I'm not sure. Maybe standards I make up in my head. I don't know. Here it is. Twice in the last two days I have tasted true victory. It has to do with a party. Not the kind in someone's house with lots of people and music. No, this party is different. To the average observer, it's quiet and only involves one person, me.

I have to preface by saying that three days ago I arrived home from a 13 day vacation with my husband and four (out of five) children. We traveled several thousand miles through several states and saw beauties of this earth which can only have been created by God. We spent time with some of His people, ones we knew before and ones we just met. If that wasn't enough, well, brace yourself for this...we got closer to one another. The whole trip was about getting closer, to beauty in all its varieties, beautiful sights, creatures and souls. And we discovered the beauty of being a family together. Our unique personalities and sensibilities blending over long hours in the car. We marinated into each other and decided, in the end, that we are happy tobe stuck with the same last name, in the same living quarters, while on the road and back home.

The first victory after this trip came yesterday evening as I listened to James Taylor while making Chicken Lo Mein for dinner. My mom came into the kitchen intending, I believe, to chat. My son came in a few minutes after looking in cupboards as he often does. For what in particular I never really know, he just does it habitually while I am in the kitchen. I asked him about his plans for the evening. It turns out he will not be home for dinner. My mom is irked by that, always. She made some sort of disapproving laugh, thinking to get me in on the response. It has been a strangely political thing she does, trying to get me on her side against someone. It seems minor and it really is. She is not some lecherous, conniving presence in our home (although my husband would not shirk to say so). I don't even think she realizes what she does. Anyway, I was not going to be on her team. I said something friendly to my son and kept on cooking. My mom sat there for a few more moments, running out of things to say, then went to her room. The feeling of victory grew over a James Taylor song or two. I stayed my ground without getting offended by my mother. She can have her own little snitchiness. I don't have to. I knew how I wanted to feel, and I had the ability to feel it. I wanted to feel love.

Second victory came this morning after I received an email from my church leader. I had sent out a notice yesterday about yoga classes I will be teaching in our area and wanted to invite the ladies from my church. My leader has some words of advice about protocol and propriety. I was at first taken aback, but not too far back. I quickly thanked my leader for the tips. As I drove home from work (where I had read the email), I decided to send another email of apology. Once again, the feeling of victory grew as I sat in the car and outlined what I would say. I decided to tell the ladies that I still love them, which I do. I understood how important propriety is for some people. I knew how I wanted to feel, and I had the ability to feel it.

This is when I felt the party. I didn't feel it yesterday. I felt it today while driving in my car. The party is inside of me. It was an after victory party, in this case, two victories. The first one felt good. But this one feels great. I've realized I'm onto something here. I can have a party inside no matter what is going on outside. It felt like a churning energy source inside that can't be extinguished from without. It is a feeling of being in control, not of others, but of myself. I don't have a name for it. I can't relate it to anything I've learned in a book or in life. I think I am going to let it sit, grow and continue to reveal itself to me for the rest of my life.

I've got a party going on inside and the more someone tries to blow it out, the stronger it gets.

Atonement

I attended a Prenatal Teacher Training (yoga) this past weekend. We learned about deep procession work, among other things. It involves imagining yourself talking to someone you have unresolved issues with in order to work things out and hopefully, feel better. We didn't have all the time in the world so we were encouraged to choose a person that we can handle in just a little bit of time. I chose someone minor in my life to have this therapeutic conversation with - our partners pretended to be this person and just listened with no responses. It was interesting and exhausting. I wanted to just sleep when I got home and didn't want to talk to anyone. My point is this. I don't really have that much baggage. It would seem so because of all that has happened to me in my life. But it has all been other people's stuff dumping on me. On my own, as an individual I have not really messed up my life. I actually feel quite light. It is a good feeling. Additionally, as I went through a mental list of people to have issues with - parents, significant others, etc -I realized that I've pretty much resolved them in my heart. I don't have any really serious issues with anyone. That's a good feeling too. Lastly, I understand a little more why we need the atonement of Jesus Christ. The reason I can be so well, in spite of all the bad stuff that has happened to me is because the Savior suffered not only for my sins but for my suffering as well. I have felt his healing power come into my life when I have suffered at the hands of others. I really am all right and that is a miracle. Through the atonement of Jesus Christ I really am made whole. I love Him.

Am I an impostor?

Sometimes I feel like I am an impostor. I pretend very well to be a wife and mother of five. Back when I was trying to decide whether or not to major in Theater I realized one day that I have been acting all my life - or at least most of my life. I chose my life but really I have not been raised for such a life. What I mean is that I am acting contrary to my conditioning. I didn't like my conditioning so I chose differently. I suppose there is a bit of nobility in that. But sometimes, there are moments, when I feel like I am an impostor. I get these feelings when something reminds me of the dark times in my childhood. I don't want to remember them. But they come up. Right now I am studying substance abuse. Maybe it is not a good idea. When I read about those who are prone to abuse I see that I fit those profiles. I could have been some kind of substance abuser. But I had absolutely no desire. I wanted a better life. I have lived a clean life but there is dirt inside of me that I can't seem to wash off no matter how good my life is. Maybe I should reconsider being a therapist. Maybe I need to do something else, something that won't remind me of my past suffering.

Learning to listen.

Being a parent is the most complex endeavor. It's odd how easily we can come by it, really. There are no qualifications, certifications, levels of education, experience, background checks, applications to fill out or trainings to pass in order to become a parent. Yet, it is the most important job in the universe. Just goes to show, God must be impartial to afford just about anyone the opportunity to have the most important job in His universe. He is an equal opportunity employer.

Here is what I have been thinking about in earnest about parenting. It is so much more about listening than anyone says. Listen with focused interest and get your hand of that child's pulse. Get to know your child's heart. Then pray that for the right words at the right time to touch your child's heart. When you have your child's pulse you can monitor their health and progress.

Each child will need something different. Your job is to understand what that need is and try to fill it. When they are infants it's being able to tell if they are hungry, wet or tired. It starts out simple, thank goodness. Then those choices of needs become more complex and personal to the child. You have to be able to adapt and improvise in order to keep up. Do not be deceived by how big they may get. They will always need something from you until you leave this earth. I have children from ages 7-25. I know my oldest can do his own laundry. What he needs from me is a word or two of counsel now and then, not just any counsel though, the right counsel. Knowing what to say at the right moment takes a great deal of thinking and intuiting on my part. And the moments when I can help are few so I have to get it right on. My 7 year old needs to learn obedience right now. He needs me to say "no" to him quite a bit. But more than that, he needs to know what the "yeses" are so he can get things right and feel good about himself. Then there are the three daughters in between the youngest and the oldest, each with their own set of unique needs.

It is a fun job. I have to say. It keeps me involved with humanity, my own and at large. It keeps me in touch with the workings of a human soul. As I learn each day to listen more carefully and deeply I am finding a wellspring of understanding, even wisdom, in my own soul.
Speaking becomes more meaningful and natural. First, just listen.

What I want to learn to sing...

I used to sing ALOT. I fell out of it, oddly enough, when I started taking guitar lessons in 2006. I had a teacher who played guitar that just mesmerized me and I lost my own voice, in a way. I stopped creating by instinct and began trying to "play" the guitar as written in a book. I stopped taking lessons last fall. The expectations are starting to fall away and I am itching to get back to playing from my heart, not just from my head. As part of that process and in order to bring the fun back into singing and playing, I am going to learn some songs on the guitar like I did when I first started learning the instrument in 7th grade. I am going to make a list of songs starting with the following...

songs I want to learn:

*Say a Little Prayer for You
*You've Got a Friend
*All I Really Need is a Song in My Heart
*When Somebody Loved Me
*Shower the People You Love with Love
*Hold Out

It's time to get started!

Losing yourself to find yourself.

I have been thinking about this principle that I have heard about for a long time. I thought I knew what it meant. But I think I am just beginning to know. I am preparing to enter a new field. I am training to be a substance abuse counselor. I have spoken to two counselors in the field as part of an assignment for the program. These are individuals who know what it is to lose themselves. I know it can't be an unhealthy thing but I realize that I have just begun to scratch the surface.

Yes, I am a mother of five. I teach yoga. I have tried to fill my life with doing good. There is more to go - more growth, more learning, more giving. I am both looking forward to this new experience while also knowing that I have to be wise not to get burned out. It is a new adventure.

What it takes.

"Breakfast will be ready in five minutes!" It is a cheerful voice at 6:45am on a clouded summer morning. It is time for soccer camp, a week long, 3 1/2 hour a day activity to keep small bodies
busy and growing minds from getting slumpy as we near the middle of this wonderful season. The two children for whom the invitation was made have no idea just what it took for to accomplish
that declaration that lasted just seconds.

I woke up a little before five am. I couldn't sleep much to my husbands disappointment. He loves so much sleep that he actually grieves for someone who can't. I finally climbed out of bed and headed to the kitchen where my computer is. I turned in on and began my day. For me, this has become writing. I am part of a writing workshop that requires we write everyday. In order to avoid this taks getting pushed aside I do it first thing after which I comment on a few fellow writer's musing and sometimes even get inspired to write some more. It is a wonder of a process, really. So I wrote and read for an hour. Then I did homework for half an hour before it was time to get dressed and wake up the kids.

The reason I felt cheerful is that I require a certain amount of mental activity to clear my head and help me be in a good mood. Physical activity does the same thing. I'll do that too today.
So, my ideal day is when I have been a happy person for my kids. If it takes some work to get there, I will do it. That is what it takes, so I'll do it.

happy

I have to say, when I read other people's writing, I realize that basically, I am happy. It is not a glamorous life. I am a stay at home mom who does her best to get out some but still remain
basically a stay at home mom. It is what I wanted. I have never had a full time job outside of home. The closest I got was two part time jobs for a month before we had kids. I quit one job
to return to school. I don't have a lot of fancy stuff. I shop at the discount stores and sale racks. We have a modest house that more than serves our needs. We could use a new couch but that will have to wait until our oldest daughter is done with college. I don't cook the fanciest of stuff but I try to make what tastes good with simplicity and as few ingredients as possible. I don't have an amazing garden even though I would love it. I don't have time.

But here is what I DO have! I have five children who appear to be amazing to me. They are just good people, in spite of all my failings, of their parents failings. I have a purpose. I have enough to do outside of the family to keep my needs for growth satisfied. I have a husband who hasn't given up. I have a family and a good reason to live. I am happy. Life is not fancy but it has all the most important elements.

The ability to speak my mind.

It has become clear to me that the silent, quietly suffering woman in the corner of the room works in the movies but not in real life. At least, not for me, in my current life. If I want life to be good, I have to express my needs and even desires. Of course, I can't be tyrannical. If I do my best to have everyone's best interests in mind then chances are good that my needs will be to help other needs be met. My personal needs are my responsibility and they are simple - good health and continued progress - what I usually need help with is taking care of the family. In short, I understand that I need to let my husband know what I expect of him as a father and husband. I hate to say but I'm usually right. So sorry to admit that. But it is true. My desire is the happiness and well-being of my family so, even my personal upkeep is to that end. I take care of myself so I can better take care of others. Once in awhile, I get to have a good time as well - like going on roller coasters with my kids at Knott's Berry Farm! So, anyway, my point is this, it's OK to speak my mind to my husband. It's not unromantic or less magical. It's necessary, smart and will allow us to continue to build our lives together and care for our family. That's a good thing.

Dependable

What is dependable? Am I, dependable? I try, certainly. But it seems that I am often at the mercy of this swirl of emotions, like an unsettled ocean , that can be calm one moment and stormy the next.

But there are small ways to be dependable. Would you like a bowl of cereal? To which my 7 year
old responds excitedly, "Lucky Charms!" How easy he is to please. It took me less than a minute
to assemble the meal and he was happy. I look like an absolute hero. Does he know how many
choices it took me to get to that place where I can pour him a bowl of Lucky Charms at 7am while the rest of the household still sleeps?

There were so many choices. There was a great many "no" answers. Actually, it was the same few questions to which I chose to answer "no" repeatedly until my life became channeled, focused to a point that took me exactly to that moment of "Would you like a bowl of cereal?"

I don't know if that is dependable. I know it's the best I can do and it has taken all I have got to get there, so, I sure hope it's enough.

Too much?

Is it too much to know what I am thinking all the time? Is it too much for me to share what I am thinking all the time? Probably yes, and yes. Thankfully it isn't possible for me to keep this blog up to date with the myriad of weather conditions that pass through my mind. Sometimes, though, I come up with stuff that I just want to share. Hopefully, those will make it to this forum.

Everyday they come

These thoughts are incessant, really, which depending on which set of thoughts can be good or not so good. My dear Auntie Charing is hard of hearing and when she lived with us it seemed that being so is not such a bad thing. That's only because her thoughts which she had for company were a good sort of bunch. Our thoughts are constant companions, are they not? So, choose carefully your friends..........

Work that saves us.

The nature of work can be elusive in our day and place. My daughter wants to earn money to buy
a hand held game system. While I was at work she did various chores on a list I had made for her before I left. By the time I got back home she had earned $10. I am very proud of her! Just a week ago I was fretting over how to keep the kids busy while I taught a yoga class here and there. We had a serious conversation - which was actually me speaking with great emotion - telling them that I need to work so we can have the basic things and they need to help out and avoid idleness. It actually seemed to work. My kids are good. When I catch myself coddling them - wanting to spare them the work - I have to stop myself. That's my mom's approach, but it doesn't have to be mine. Since I stopped seeing work as a punishment we have all been a lot happier. I am blessed to do something I love for work for just a few hours a week and to have such great kids who are learning to embrace the principle of work in their own lives. Work can save us and we ought to be grateful for the opportunity to work.